“Volunteers,” he said, looking sideways at me.  “I know how to take Amochol; but I must take him in my own manner.”

I ventured to remind him of the General’s instructions that we find the Chinisee Castle and report at sunrise.

“Damn it, I know it,” he retorted impatiently, “but I have my own plans; and the General will bear me out when I fling Amochol’s scalp at his feet.”

The Grey-Feather drew me aside and said in a low, earnest voice: 

“We are too many to surprise Amochol.  Before Wyoming, with only three others I went to Thenondiago, the Castle of the Three Clans—­ The Bear, The Wolf, and The Turtle—­ and there we took and slew Skull-Face, brother of Amochol, and wounded Telenemut, the husband of Catrine Montour.  By Waiandaia we stretched the scalp of Skull-Face; at Thaowethon we painted it with Huron and Seneca tear-drops; at Yaowania we peeled three trees and wrote on each the story so that the Three Clans might read and howl their anguish.  Thus should it be done tonight if we are to deal with Amochol!”

Once more I ventured to protest to Boyd.

“Leave it to me, Loskiel,” he said pleasantly.  And I could say no more.

At eleven our party of twenty-nine set out, Hanierri, the Oneida, from headquarters, guiding us; and I could not understand why Boyd had chosen him, for I was certain he knew less about this region than did Mayaro, However, when I spoke to Boyd, he replied that the General had so ordered, and that Hanierri had full instructions concerning the route from the commander himself.

As General Sullivan was often misinformed by his maps and his scouts, I was nothing reassured by Boyd’s reply, and marched with my Indians, feeling in my heart afraid.  And, without vaunting myself, nor meaning to claim any general immunity from fear, I can truly say that for the first time in my life I set forth upon an expedition with the most melancholy forebodings possible to a man of ordinary courage and self-respect.

We followed the hard-travelled war-trail in single file; and Hanierri did not lose his way, but instead of taking, as he should have done, the unused path which led to the Chinisee Castle, he passed it and continued on.

I protested most earnestly to Boyd; the Sagamore corroborated my opinion when summoned.  But Hanierri remained obstinate, declaring that he had positive information that the Chinisee Castle lay in the direction we were taking.

Boyd seemed strangely indifferent and dull, making apparently no effort to sift the matter further.  So strange and apathetic had his manner become, so unlike himself was he, that I could make nothing of him, and stood in uneasy wonderment while the Mohican and the Oneida, Hanierri, were gravely disputing.

“Come,” he said, in his husky and altered voice, “let us have done with this difference in opinion.  Let the Oneida guide us—­ as we cannot have two guides’ opinions.  March!”