The stolid face of the listening savage changed, the expression of revengeful hostility merging into one of undisguised amazement.

“That which you picture has not left my memory,” he answered gravely.

“Nor the pledge you gave to that white captain when he brought you safely to Detroit?” I queried, eagerly.

“Nor the pledge.  But what has all this to do here?”

“Only, Sau-ga-nash, that I am Major David Wayland’s son.”

The Indian sprang forward, his eyes burning fiercely; and thinking his movement to be hostile, I thrust the girl aside that I might be free to repel his attack.  But he did not touch me, merely peering eagerly into my face with a keen questioning look that read my every feature.

“You have the nose and forehead,” he reflected aloud; “yes, and the eyes.  Before the Great Spirit, I will redeem my pledge; a chief of the Wyandots cannot lie.”

He paused, and I could mark the varied emotions that swayed him, so deeply was he moved by this strange discovery.  Unconsciously my hand clasped Mademoiselle’s, for now I felt that our fate hung on his decision.

“’T is a hard task, Master Wayland,” he admitted at length, almost wearily, “but for your father’s sake it shall be done.  I see only one way for it, and that by water.  Know you anything about the management of boats?”

“Only as I have paddled upon the Maumee,” I answered, doubtfully, “although I handled a small sail when a mere boy in the far East.”

“’T will suffice if the fair weather hold, as is likely at this season.  At least it may be risked.  The land trails are crowded by Indians from far-off tribes, hastening hither in hope of fight and spoils.  More than a hundred came in to-day, painted for war, and angry because too late.  You could not escape encountering such parties, were you to flee by trail eastward; nor would they show mercy to any white.  The Silver-man has returned to his home north of the river; but ’t is all that we who are friendly to him can do to keep these warriors from attacking even there.  ’T is the Indians from far away that make the trouble; and these grow more numerous and powerful each day.  We keep a guard at the house to save the Silver-man and his family; and were more whites to seek refuge there, we should lose all control.  There is still safety at the mouth of the Saint Joseph River, and ’t is there you must go.  The venture must be made to-night, and by water.  Is it known to any Indian that you are alive and within this camp?”

“To none.”

“That is well; we can work best alone.  Now listen.  At midnight, Master Wayland, a boat, prepared for the trip, will await you, hidden under the ruins of the Agency building.  The river flows under the flooring deep enough for the purpose, and I will place the boat there with my own hand.  Beyond that, all must rest upon your own skill and good fortune.  You will wait here,” and he glanced about anxiously for some means of concealment, “lying behind those robes yonder, until the hour.”