"Not wait here long," said Dick, looking at the sun. "Redcoats after white men and we must hurry."
"Where are the Redcoat soldiers?" asked the chief, helping himself to some of the fish chowder and then pushing the pot toward the boys.
"We ran away from them this morning," replied Dick. "They follow us soon, along the other shore, and there are many of them, too many for even the brave redmen to fight."
"Red-man do not want to fight too many, but if not too many——" here the chief drifted off into silence, and Dick could see that he was thinking of something that boded ill for the British troops, whoever fell into his hands. Fritz as too busy by far with the bowl of chowder and some flat cakes of baked flour to pay much attention to the conversation.
"My companion's name is Fritz," said Dick, rescuing the remains of the meal from that busy party, "and my own is Dick."
The chief nodded to indicate that he understood and would remember their names.
"We are going back to our own hunting grounds," said the Indian. "We have been away for twelve moons now, and they should be ready for us once more."
"What is the matter, game all gone?" queried Dick.
"No," replied Telca, shaking his head slowly. "If white boys stay with their red friends, Telca will tell about it tonight."