A slight rustle behind him, which sounded to him like the gliding of a rattlesnake over the leaves, caused him to start and turn round.  But he was too late.  A crushing blow on the head from a club in the hand of a brawny Indian laid him senseless on the ground.

When Isaac regained his senses he felt a throbbing pain in his head, and then he opened his eyes he was so dizzy that he was unable to discern objects clearly.  After a few moments his sight returned.  When he had struggled to a sitting posture he discovered that his hands were bound with buckskin thongs.  By his side he saw two long poles of basswood, with some strips of green bark and pieces of grapevine laced across and tied fast to the poles.  Evidently this had served as a litter on which he had been carried.  From his wet clothes and the position of the sun, now low in the west, he concluded he had been brought across the river and was now miles from the fort.  In front of him he saw three Indians sitting before a fire.  One of them was cutting thin slices from a haunch of deer meat, another was drinking from a gourd, and the third was roasting a piece of venison which he held on a sharpened stick.  Isaac knew at once the Indians were Wyandots, and he saw they were in full war paint.  They were not young braves, but middle aged warriors.  One of them Isaac recognized as Crow, a chief of one of the Wyandot tribes, and a warrior renowned for his daring and for his ability to make his way in a straight line through the wilderness.  Crow was a short, heavy Indian and his frame denoted great strength.  He had a broad forehead, high cheek bones, prominent nose and his face would have been handsome and intelligent but for the scar which ran across his cheek, giving him a sinister look.

“Hugh!” said Crow, as he looked up and saw Isaac staring at him.  The other Indians immediately gave vent to a like exclamation.

“Crow, you caught me again,” said Isaac, in the Wyandot tongue, which he spoke fluently.

“The white chief is sure of eye and swift of foot, but he cannot escape the Huron.  Crow has been five times on his trail since the moon was bright.  The white chief’s eyes were shut and his ears were deaf,” answered the Indian loftily.

“How long have you been near the fort?”

“Two moons have the warriors of Myeerah hunted the pale face.”

“Have you any more Indians with you?”

The chief nodded and said a party of nine Wyandots had been in the vicinity of Wheeling for a month.  He named some of the warriors.

Isaac was surprised to learn of the renowned chiefs who had been sent to recapture him.  Not to mention Crow, the Delaware chiefs Son-of-Wingenund and Wapatomeka were among the most cunning and sagacious Indians of the west.  Isaac reflected that his year’s absence from Myeerah had not caused her to forget him.

Crow untied Isaac’s hands and gave him water and venison.  Then he picked up his rifle and with a word to the Indians he stepped into the underbrush that skirted the little dale, and was lost to view.