“This may all be true, Tuscarora, and you are welcome.  You shall eat of our venison, and then we must separate.  The setting sun is behind us, and both of us move quick:  my brother will get too far from that which he seeks, unless he turns round.”

Pathfinder now returned to the others, and repeated the result of his examination.  He appeared himself to believe that the account of Arrowhead might be true, though he admitted that caution would be prudent with one he disliked; but his auditors, Jasper excepted, seemed less disposed to put faith in the explanations.

“This chap must be ironed at once, brother Dunham,” said Cap, as soon as Pathfinder finished his narration; “he must be turned over to the master-at-arms, if there is any such officer on fresh water, and a court-martial ought to be ordered as soon as we reach port.”

“I think it wisest to detain the fellow,” the Sergeant answered; “but irons are unnecessary so long as he remains in the cutter.  In the morning the matter shall be inquired into.”

Arrowhead was now summoned and told the decision.  The Indian listened gravely, and made no objections.  On the contrary, he submitted with the calm and reserved dignity with which the American aborigines are known to yield to fate; and he stood apart, an attentive but calm observer of what was passing.  Jasper caused the cutter’s sails to be filled, and the Scud resumed her course.

It was now getting near the hour to set the watch, and when it was usual to retire for the night.  Most of the party went below, leaving no one on deck but Cap, the Sergeant, Jasper, and two of the crew.  Arrowhead and his wife also remained, the former standing aloof in proud reserve, and the latter exhibiting, by her attitude and passiveness, the meek humility that characterizes an Indian woman.

“You will find a place for your wife below, Arrowhead, where my daughter will attend to her wants,” said the Sergeant kindly, who was himself on the point of quitting the deck; “yonder is a sail where you may sleep yourself.”

“I thank my father.  The Tuscaroras are not poor.  The woman will look for my blankets in the canoe.”

“As you wish, my friend.  We think it necessary to detain you; but not necessary to confine or to maltreat you.  Send your squaw into the canoe for the blankets and you may follow her yourself, and hand us up the paddles.  As there may be some sleepy heads in the Scud, Eau-douce,” added the Sergeant in a lower tone, “it may be well to secure the paddles.”

Jasper assented, and Arrowhead and his wife, with whom resistance appeared to be out of the question, silently complied with the directions.  A few expressions of sharp rebuke passed from the Indian to his wife, while both were employed in the canoe, which the latter received with submissive quiet, immediately repairing an error she had made by laying aside the blanket she had taken and searching for another that was more to her tyrant’s mind.