The return trip made, they approached the house.  As they turned the corner they saw Colonel Zane standing at the door talking to Wetzel.

They saw that the Colonel looked pale and distressed, and the face of the hunter was dark and gloomy.

“Lew, did you get my turkey?” said Betty, after a moment of hesitation.  A nameless fear filled her breast.

For answer Wetzel threw back the flaps of his coat and there at his belt hung a small tuft of black hair.  Betty knew at once it was the scalp-lock of an Indian.  Her face turned white and she placed a hand on the hunter’s arm.

“What do you mean?  That is an Indian’s scalp.  Lew, you look so strange.  Tell me, is it because we went off in the canoe and have been in danger?”

“Betty, Isaac has been captured again,” said the Colonel.

“Oh, no, no, no,” cried Betty in agonized tones, and wringing her hands.  Then, excitedly, “Something can be done; you must pursue them.  Oh, Lew, Mr. Clarke, cannot you rescue him?  They have not had time to go far.”

“Isaac went to the chestnut grove this morning.  If he had stayed there he would not have been captured.  But he went far into the Black Forest.  The turkey call we heard across the creek was made by a Wyandot concealed in the cave.  Lewis tells me that a number of Indians have camped there for days.  He shot the one who was calling and followed the others until he found where they had taken Isaac’s trail.”

Betty turned to the younger man with tearful eyes, and with beseeching voice implored them to save her brother.

“I am ready to follow you,” said Clarke to Wetzel.

The hunter shook his head, but did not answer.

“It is that hateful White Crane,” passionately burst out Betty, as the Colonel’s wife led her weeping into the house.

“Did you get more than one shot at them?” asked Clarke.

The hunter nodded, and the slight, inscrutable smile flitted across his stern features.  He never spoke of his deeds.  For this reason many of the thrilling adventures which he must have had will forever remain unrevealed.  That evening there was sadness at Colonel Zane’s supper table.  They felt the absence of the Colonel’s usual spirits, his teasing of Betty, and his cheerful conversation.  He had nothing to say.  Betty sat at the table a little while, and then got up and left the room saying she could not eat.  Jonathan, on hearing of his brother’s recapture, did not speak, but retired in gloomy silence.  Silas was the only one of the family who was not utterly depressed.  He said it could have been a great deal worse; that they must make the best of it, and that the sooner Isaac married his Indian Princess the better for his scalp and for the happiness of all concerned.

“I remember Myeerah very well,” he said.  “It was eight years ago, and she was only a child.  Even then she was very proud and willful, and the loveliest girl I ever laid eyes on.”