“I see all you tell me.  You know, then, that those fellows have made friends with the hostile party?”

“No need know—­see.  Look—­Injin chop, pale-face look on!  Call that war?”

“I do see that which satisfies me the men in paint yonder are not all red men.”

“No—­cap’in right—­tell him so at wigwam.  But dat Mohawk—­dog—­rascal—­ Nick’s enemy!”

This was said with a gleam of fierceness shooting across the swarthy face, and a menacing gesture of the hand, in the direction of a real savage who was standing indolently leaning against a tree, at a distance so small as to allow those on the rock to distinguish his features.  The vacant expression of this man’s countenance plainly denoted that he was totally unconscious of the vicinity of danger.  It expressed the listless vacancy of an Indian in a state of perfect rest—­his stomach full, his body at ease, his mind peaceful.

“I thought Nick was not here,” the captain quietly observed, smiling on the Tuscarora a little ironically.

“Cap’in right—­Nick no here.  Well for dog ’tis so.  Too mean for Wyandotte to touch.  What cap’in come for?  Eh!  Better tell chief—­get council widout lightin’ fire.”

“As I see no use in concealing my plan from you, Wyandotte,”—­Nick seemed pleased whenever this name was pronounced by others—­“I shall tell it you, freely.  Still, you have more to relate to me.  Why are you here?—­And how came you to discover us?”

“Follow trail—­know cap’in foot—­know serjeant foot—­know Mike foot—­ see so many foot, follow him.  Leave so many” holding up three fingers “in bushes—­so many” holding up two fingers “come here.  Foot tell which come here—­Wyandotte chief—­he follow chief.”

“When did you first strike, or see our trail, Tuscarora?”

“Up here—­down yonder—­over dere.”  Captain Willoughby understood this to mean, that the Indian had crossed the trail, or seen it in several places.  “Plenty trail; plenty foot to tell all about it.  Wyandotte see foot of friend—­why he don’t follow, eh?”

“I hope this is all so, old warrior, and that you will prove yourself a friend indeed.  We are out in the hope of liberating my son, and we came here to see what our enemies are about.”

The Tuscarora’s eyes were like two inquisitors, as he listened; but he seemed satisfied that the truth was told him.  Assuming an air of interest, he inquired if the captain knew where the major was confined.  A few words explained everything, and the parties soon understood each other.

“Cap’in right,” observed Nick.  “Son in cupboard still; but plenty warrior hear, to keep eye on him.”

“You know his position, Wyandotte, and can aid us materially, if you will.  What say you, chief; will you take service, once more, under your old commander?”

“Who he sarve—­King George—­Congress—­eh?”

“Neither.  I am neutral, Tuscarora, in the present quarrel.  I only defend myself, and the rights which the laws assure to me, let whichever party govern, that may.”