The soldier was the first to speak.

“Isn’t this an impressive sight, Oonomoo?”

“Yeh—­make think of Great Spirit.”

“That is true.  You seem to be more than usually solemn in your reflections, my good friend, and I am glad to see it.  This calm moonlight night, the clear sky and the deep, silent wood, is enough to make any person thoughtful; but it must have required something more than ordinary to impress you thus.”

“Saw Fluellina to-day, Oonomoo’s wife.”

Lieutenant Canfield was considerably puzzled to understand how this could account for the peculiar frame of the Huron’s mind, but he had too much consideration to question him further.  It was not until he spoke again, that he gained a clear idea of his meaning.

“Fluellina Christian—­got Bible—­tell ’bout God—­Great Spirit up dere—­read out of it—­tell Oonomoo ’bout t’ings in it—­Oonomoo nebber take anodder scalp.”

“A wise determination; such a brave man as you needs no proof of your bravery, and that good Being which your Fluellina has told you about will smile upon your noble conduct.”

“Know dat—­feel it,” added the Huron, eagerly.  He stood a moment longer, and then added, “Time dat we go.”

“You spoke of going part way in a canoe, but I do not see any for us.”

“Down yonder, by dat rock.”

The Indian pointed down the river as he spoke, and, following the direction of his finger, Lieutenant Canfield distinguished a large rock projecting some distance from the shore, but could distinguish nothing of the canoe of which he spoke.  Knowing, however, that it must be concealed somewhere in the vicinity, he remarked, as they withdrew again into the wood: 

“How is it, Oonomoo, that you have your canoe in every part of the country?  You must be the owner of quite a fleet.”

“Got two—­free—­twenty—­more’n dat—­all ober—­in Big Miami—­Little Miami—­all ’long Ohio—­Soty (Sciota)—­Hocking—­Mussygum (Muskingum)—­’way out ’long de Wabash—­hid all ober—­got ’em eberywhere.”

“And I suppose you find occasion to use them all?”

“Use ’em all.  Out on Wabash last winter—­snow deep—­two days in de snow—­paddlin’ on de ribber—­hab ’em hid ’long de shore—­sometime lose ’em.”

“How did you get them in these different places?  Carry them there yourself?”

“Made ’em—­knowed want use ’em—­made ’em and hid ’em.”

The young soldier was about to speak, when the Huron motioned for him to maintain his peace.  The conversation had been carried on in so low tones that a third party, a rod distant, could not have overheard their words.  Before the Indian spoke, he had glanced around to satisfy himself that it was impossible for a human being to be concealed within that area.

Now, however, he was about to change his position, and the strictest silence was necessary.

The two passed down through the woods, and were just emerging again upon the bank, when the Huron, who was in front, suddenly started back, so quickly and lightly that the Lieutenant did not understand his movement till he saw their relative change of position.