“Dis my son Niniotan,” said he.  “He go wid us.”

“I am glad of his company I am sure.  Did you expect to meet him in this place?”

“No—­Fluellina, his mother, send him in big hurry to Oonomoo—­been huntin’ all day—­jes’ found us.”

“No trouble, I trust?”

“Tell in de mornin’—­mus’ walk fas’ now—­don’t talk much—­git to settlement quick as can.  Take gal’s hand—­lead her fast.”

The soldier knew there must be cause for this haste of his friend, and acting upon the hint which he had given him to ask no further questions, he took the hand of Miss Prescott, and the party moved forward at a rapid walk.  Little did he suspect the true cause of the Huron’s silence.  Knowing the solicitations that would be made by the soldier and the girl for him to leave them at once and attend to the safety of his wife, the noble Indian refrained from imparting the truth.  It was his intention to conduct his friends as far as possible during the night, that they might be beyond all danger, when, accompanied by his son, he would make all haste to his Fluellina, and carry her to some place beyond the reach of his inhuman foes.

For fully eight hours, the little party hurried through the woods.  Miss Prescott bore the fatigue much better than she expected.  Being strong, healthy, and accustomed to long rambles and sports in the open air, and having been so long inactive in the Shawnee village, the rapid walk for a long time was pleasant and exhilarating to her.  It sent the blood bounding through her glowing frame, and there being withal the spice of an unseen and unknown danger to spur her on, she was fully able to go twice the distance, when the Huron gave the order to halt.

It was broad daylight and the sun was just rising.  They were several miles beyond the ruins of Captain Prescott’s mansion, so that the settlement could be easily reached in a few hours more.  Oonomoo brought down a turkey with his rifle, dressed it, and had a fire burning with which to cook it.  This was accomplished in a short time under his skillful manipulations, and a hearty meal afforded to every one of the little company.  Lieutenant Canfield noticed that neither the Huron nor his son ate more than a mouthful or two, and he was now satisfied that the news brought by the latter was bad and disheartening.  He refrained, however, from referring to the subject again, well knowing that the Indian would tell him all that he thought proper, when the time arrived.

They had just completed their meal, when Niniotan and Oonomoo started, raising their heads, as if something had caught their ears.  Listening a moment, the latter said: 

“Somebody comin’.”

“Hebens, golly! am it Injines?” asked Cato, looking around for some good place to hide.  The eyes of the soldier and Miss Prescott asked the same question, and the Huron replied: 

“Ain’t Injins—­walk too heavy—­white men.”