“Listen!” said Henry Ware, and every word that he said was burned into Braxton Wyatt’s wretched soul.  “You are not to die, not at this time.  But you are to do what we say.  Go back there, under those trees by the big rock, and when Yellow Panther and the other Miamis come up, tell them that you have lied!  We were the belt bearers, and you are to say to Yellow Panther that you knew us as real Shawnees, but you were so anxious for the war that you denied us.  Tell it as if it were true.  Don’t tremble!  Don’t look once at these bushes!  Our three rifles will be aimed at you all the time, and if you say a single word that will make them suspect, we fire, and you know that no one of us ever misses.  Do as we say!”

He was released, the heavy hand was taken away from his mouth, and his captors disappeared so suddenly and silently in the bushes that it was almost unbelievable.  Then Braxton Wyatt rose to his feet and trembled violently.  Though he could not see them now, he must believe.  He could feel that powerful grasp yet upon his arms, and that heavy hand yet upon his mouth.  He knew, too, as well as he knew that he was living, that the unseen muzzles were there, trained upon him.  As Henry Ware truly said, no one of the three ever missed, and he had no chance.

He stopped his trembling with an effort of the will and walked to the rock under the trees, thirty or forty yards away.  Already he saw Yellow Panther and the other Miamis coming, and he rebelled at the deadly menace from the bushes.  But the love of life was strong within him.  He looked at Yellow Panther, who was approaching with five or six warriors, and then he tried to form a rapid plan.  He would talk with the chief, saying at first what his terrible enemies wished, and then, gradually drawing him away, he would tell the truth, and thus achieve the destruction of the three whom he hated and feared so horribly.

Braxton Wyatt raised one hand and wiped the perspiration from his face.  Then, when a deadly fear struck him, he composed his features.  Henry Ware had said he must tell a tale that seemed true.  There must be no suspicion.  The fatal muzzles were trained on him, he well knew, and the sharpest of eyes and ears were watching.  He longed to cast one look at the bushes, only one, but he dared not for his life.  It was forbidden!

Yellow Panther was at hand now, plainly showing annoyance.  The lost trail could not be found, and wrath possessed him.  He looked at the renegade, and uttered his discontent.

Braxton Wyatt longed more than ever to tell; they were there so near, it seemed he must tell; but the deadly rifles held him back.  No one of their bullets would miss!

“Yellow Panther,” he said, and his voice faltered, “let us abandon the trail and go back.”

Yellow Panther looked at him, astonished by words and manner alike.

“Go back!” he said.  “Did you not tell me that they were false, that there were no such warriors in the Shawnee village?”