"He can talk in English fairly well, much better than the Shawnee brave who talked with me the other day," observed Joe.
"Some of the Indians speak the language almost fluently," said Colonel Zane. "You could hardly have distinguished Logan's speech from a white man's. Corn-planter uses good English, as also does my brother's wife, a Wyandot girl."
"Did your brother marry an Indian?" and Joe plainly showed his surprise.
"Indeed he did, and a most beautiful girl she is. I'll tell you Isaac's story some time. He was a captive among the Wyandots for ten years. The chief's daughter, Myeerah, loved him, kept him from being tortured, and finally saved him from the stake."
"Well, that floors me," said Joe; "yet I don't see why it should.
I'm just surprised. Where is your brother now?"
"He lives with the tribe. He and Myeerah are working hard for peace.
We are now on more friendly terms with the great Wyandots, or
Hurons, as we call them, than ever before."
"Who is this big man coming from the the fort?" asked Joe, suddenly observing a stalwart frontiersman approaching.
"Major Sam McColloch. You have met him. He's the man who jumped his horse from yonder bluff."
"Jonathan and he have the same look, the same swing," observed Joe, as he ran his eye over the major. His faded buckskin costume, beaded, fringed, and laced, was similar to that of the colonel's brother. Powder-flask and bullet-pouch were made from cow-horns and slung around his neck on deerhide strings. The hunting coat was unlaced, exposing, under the long, fringed borders, a tunic of the same well-tanned, but finer and softer, material. As he walked, the flaps of his coat fell back, showing a belt containing two knives, sheathed in heavy buckskin, and a bright tomahawk. He carried a long rifle in the hollow of his arm.
"These hunters have the same kind of buckskin suits," continued Joe; "still, it doesn't seem to me the clothes make the resemblance to each other. The way these men stand, walk and act is what strikes me particularly, as in the case of Wetzel."