He questioned the Shawnee no further regarding the Wolf-Queen; but both lapsed into silence as they awaited the passing of the day. Their work was to be done by night alone.
The afternoon was well spent, when the dip of oars assailed their ears. Oonalooska glided from the hermit’s side.
More distinct grew the plash of oars, and presently six canoes, loaded to the water with painted braves, flitted past the Shawnee’s line of vision.
In the prow of the foremost canoe stood Tecumseh.
“Tecumseh is on the war-path,” said Oonalooska, returning to the hermit. “The White Wolf is not with him. The Lone Man and Oonalooska must tear the pale-faces from his people before the great chief returns.”
The hermit saw the truth of the Indian’s words, and promptly acknowledged it. Tecumseh had never been outwitted by a white man.
At length night came, and the twain left the ledge.
They glided to the opening through which they had emerged from the cave, and reëntered the deserted home. It had been pillaged by the savages; but the couple discovered some jerked meat that satisfied their hunger, and from a secret cache Hewitt drew two rifles and a quantity of ammunition.
Thus equipped they were leaving the deserted home, when from one of the subterranean passages an animal bounded. It was the hermit’s dog.
“Wolf, old fellow, with us again,” cried Hewitt, patting the animal’s shaggy back. “You shall go with us. Mebbe we’ll need your nose and teeth.”