At length the mountains which rose above Roaring Water appeared in sight. As we neared them I looked out eagerly from the summit of a ridge we had reached, to ascertain if any Indians were in the neighbourhood; but as none were to be seen, I hoped that we might reach the farm before any attack had been commenced.
As we passed the confines of the property I saw none of our people about; but, as the evening was drawing on, I thought it probable that they had gone home from their work. Still, I felt somewhat anxious; my anxiety being also shared by the lieutenant, who was making his tired beast breast the hill faster than he, as a humane man, would otherwise have done.
As we got close to the house, an Indian started up from behind a copse which grew on the side of the hill. He had neither war-paint nor ornaments on, and looked weary and travel-stained. He was a young, active man; but, at the first glance, I did not like his countenance. A person unaccustomed to Indians cannot easily distinguish one from another, although in reality they vary in appearance as much as white men do; as does also the expression of their countenances.
"Are you going to the farm?" he asked, addressing me. He knew at once by my dress that I was a settler.
"Yes," I replied. "Why do you put the question?"
"I wish to go there too," he answered. "I want to tell the Palefaces living there that they are likely to be attacked by enemies who have sworn to take their scalps, and that unless they run away they will all lose their lives."
"You do not bring us news," I replied; "but you can accompany us to the farm and speak to the white chief, telling him what you know—although I do not think it likely that he will follow your advice."
"Come on, come on, Ralph," cried the lieutenant; "do not lose time by talking to that fellow."
I quickly overtook my companion; while the Indian followed, notwithstanding his tired appearance, at a speed which soon brought him up with us.
As we rode up to the house, Uncle Jeff appeared at the door.