“i’ll bet i can tell whose work this is!”

in an awed, half-frightened tone, as he looked upon the terrible scene, john spoke.

ree was already on his knees in the snow trying to learn if there was not some spark of life remaining. there was none. the body was cold and in places the flesh was frozen hard.

“the lone indian’s,” he slowly answered john’s remark. “poor quilling. the only wonder is that the wolves have not been here before us. it was quilling who cried out for help, last night, john.”

213

“i suppose we will never know just what did happen, but it looks more and more as if a trap of some kind had been laid for us, now doesn’t it? and while quilling and dexter waited, perhaps, that prowling redskin shot him. i only wish it had been duff who was killed.”

as though they had talked the matter all over and agreed what they should do, though scarcely a word was spoken, the boys tramped up the hill to their cabin. with an axe and shovel they returned to where the body of quilling lay. at the foot of a beech tree which they proposed to save, as the clearing of their land progressed, they laboriously dug a shallow grave.

“i would rather mr. hatch should know nothing about this, he is always so broken up by such things,” ree said thoughtfully, as he leaned on his shovel, “but it does seem a pity to bury the poor fellow without a prayer or anything. shall we tell the quaker?”

214

a suggestion from ree was sufficient always, for john. theodore hatch was informed of what had taken place. with tears in his eyes he repeated a few solemn words of the scriptures and bowed his head in silent prayer.

deeply impressed, and on the verge of breaking out in sobs, though this man whose clay they buried, that wild animals might not tear the body to pieces, had been their enemy, the brave boys who performed for him the last deed of kindliness they could upon this earth, filled in the frozen mold around and above the corpse. so passed from the sight of men, far in the forest’s fastnesses, all that was mortal of henry quilling, and the ploughshares of later days have long since mingled his dust with the soil.

“it is another warning to us to watch out for that sneaking savage,” john remarked for the fourth or fifth time as the three returned slowly to the cabin.

“we must not forget our delaware friends,” spoke ree more briskly, hoping to turn the thoughts of the quaker in a new channel; for the old gentleman was deeply depressed by what had occurred. “do you think we better pay them another visit to-day, mr. hatch?”

215

“verily, it is a sad business,” said the quaker, “but our first duty always must be to the living. yea, we must go to the delawares.”

so it was agreed, john, however, taking ree’s place in the journey.

the quaker and ree had had trouble, indeed, the day before, in getting through the drifted snow to the delaware town, but he and john had still more difficulty this day, for the snow was deeper and the great banks were in many places breast high against their horses. and such was the old gentleman’s solicitude for his mare that, as they toiled slowly along, he more than once would have turned back, had not the dapple-gray shown a perfect willingness to bear him through the very deepest drifts to the best of its ability. john, mounted on neb, fell behind, and let the quaker’s horse break the path.

216

“it is not the difference in the strength, but in the intelligence of the beasts,” was the comment mr. hatch made. “thy horse is stronger than my own, but ph?be understands precisely what is desired of her—sweet ph?be,” and he patted the mare’s shoulder lovingly.

the indian town was reached at last and john shook hands with gentle maiden cordially as though she were an old and very dear friend. she had not seen him for long and though, according to the indian custom, she showed no surprise or especial pleasure at the meeting, it was easily seen that she was pleased.

still, when the girl engaged in conversation with the quaker, john left them and picked his way through the snow to different huts of the village, rallying the boys and girls with a smile and a pleasant word and giving even the old squaws to understand that he felt perfectly at home among them. seeing a bow and arrows hanging on a forked pole in one of the bark cabins, john took them down and called to an indian lad, ten or twelve years of age, to show him how well he could shoot. the bow was about four and a half feet in length, and made of seasoned hickory, about an inch in thickness at the middle and a quarter of an inch or less, the narrow way, near the ends. about the parts where the greatest strain came on the bow at either side of the center, the wood was tightly wound with strong strips of deer or some other skin.

217

john had often seen the bows and arrows of the indians, though most of the savages were now supplied with firearms, but he examined this bow very carefully. the arrows, too, he looked at with critical eyes, really surprised to note how cleverly they were made. the shaft of each was light but strong and straight, nearly, if not quite, three feet in length. in the larger and heavier end, arrow heads, or points, of varying size, laboriously chipped out in flint, were fastened by splitting the shaft and binding the flint tightly in the opening so made with fine, strong cords of rawhide. similarly a feather, or in some cases two or three feathers, were fastened at the small end of the shaft to make the arrow fly true to the archer’s aim. the bow and especially the arrows, with their sharp, heavy points, were such dangerous looking weapons that john inquired of the indian boy, partly in delaware, partly in english:

218

“can you not kill turkeys or deer with the bow, since your warriors are away and your people have no meat?”

“no shoot bows more—shoot guns,” the lad said.

“yes, i know,” john answered, “but when you have no guns, why not use the bow?”

“little wolf, he shoot bow—heap good,” said the indian lad, whose own name, john afterward discovered, was flying fish.

“let’s see him shoot,” the white boy replied, and little wolf, who was even then peeking in at the door of the hut, while he held a bearskin about him for warmth, quickly disappeared. in a half minute, however, he returned bringing, as john correctly guessed, his own bow and arrows. they were like those flying fish had, only quite elaborately ornamented with colors dyed in the wood, showing that little wolf had much pride in the weapons.

219

without a word the lad, who was of about the same age as the other indian boy, laid off the bearskin he wore, leaving his shoulders bare to the biting cold. (his lower limbs and waist were clothed in leggins and trousers.) he threw back his head, shaking his long hair away from his face and eyes, and while john intently watched him, pointed to a leaf on the outermost branch of an oak tree, fifty feet or more from the ground and as many yards from where he stood. with careful aim he drew the string and bent the bow, which, being very stiff and strong, required much strength.

for a second he paused as the tip of the arrow rested on the bow-center, then suddenly sent the shaft flying so quickly and swiftly that the white boy nearly missed seeing it. straight and true the arrow sped, piercing the leaf on the bough of the oak and carrying it off as neatly as if it had been plucked by hand.

220

in genuine astonishment and admiration, john gave his leg a vigorous slap, and diving his hand into his pocket found a small bone comb which he presented to little wolf then and there; and to prevent hard feelings he gave flying fish a similar present.

so pleased were the indian lads and so friendly after receiving these gifts, that it occurred to john to improve the opportunity to see what he could learn from them about the prowling redskin who seemed ever to seek and lose no chance to kill and scalp white hunters, always traveling alone, and, as gentle maiden had said, carrying on “his own war.”

“killdeer, young long-knife says,” flying fish explained to little wolf, who seemed not to understand at once to whom the white boy referred.

“is that his name? he is not a delaware, is he? he is not one of captain pipe’s people?” john asked.

“killdeer, he comes quick—like wind; gone—like wind. no one see him.”

221

and hard as john tried to draw further information about the mysterious indian from the savage youths, he could learn nothing additional. they gave evasive answers or failed, or pretended to fail, to understand him.

half inclined to be cross at the youngsters, though they amused him not a little, john changed the subject and made the boys promise to hunt with bows and arrows and to bring peltries to the cabin to exchange for knives and trinkets.

his chief object in this was to persuade the lads to do some hunting and thus provide food for themselves and others of the delaware town; and even had he thought of the future, he could not have known, as none can tell what even the next day or hour will bring forth, what an important part flying fish and little wolf would play in connection with his own well-being, as a result of his kindly interest in them. for as it afterward happened it was solely because of their having been instigated to go in quest of game with only such weapons as they possessed, that they made their appearance at a distant point one day when their young white friend greatly needed them.

222

gentle maiden and the quaker had finished the distribution of dried venison brought from the cabin by the time john had concluded his talk with the two indian lads and others who clustered around to see and to hear, and as an early homeward start was desirable, john suggested to mr. hatch that they would better be going.

no word had yet been received at the delaware town from captain pipe and there was no knowing when he would be home. however, provisions sufficient to last the indians three or four days had now been furnished them, and there would be no necessity of visiting the town so soon again. yet the quaker, whose whole heart was in this work of teaching and caring for the indians, which he had taken upon himself, told gentle maiden he would come again the next day, as they bade the girl and the people of the snow-bound village good-bye.

223

as when on their journey to the town mr. hatch and his dapple-gray led the way, so did they take the lead in traveling homeward. the wind had risen again, but the path broken in the morning was not yet filled in with the snow and very good progress was made. the short day, however, was near its close and the gloom of the coming night settled down in the silent forest while the strangely mated travelers were still three miles or more from home.

“i’ll have some news to tell ree—the fact that the mysterious indian’s name is killdeer and that he is a friend of captain pipe, who for some reason doesn’t mind who he kills,” john was thinking as he rode carelessly along, when the quaker called out to him:

“beware of the strange savage who desireth only to kill, and hath no courage in him—always shooting from behind.”

“he’s got you marked up on his arm as already dead, you know, mr. hatch, and you should be in no danger,” john laughingly called in reply.

224

but barely had he finished the sentence when he was seized from behind and a dirty hand was clasped so quickly and tightly over his mouth that he could not utter a sound. vainly he struggled, but he was dragged down into the snow and could not release himself.

so occupied was john in doing his best to escape, or at least to cry out in warning to the quaker, that he did not see what had happened to his companion.

the facts were that mr. hatch’s mare, being very much more sensitive and alert than slow-going neb, had suddenly shied upon passing a large poplar tree, and as a man sprang from behind it to seize him, as another seized john, the horse gave so violent a leap forward that the fellow grasped only at the air, though his intended victim was almost thrown from the saddle.

225

the old gentleman looked around, and seeing john’s horse, startled from its slow walk to a gallop, coming up behind, and having no doubt that the boy was lying low on the animal’s back to escape whatever danger threatened, he gave his mare free rein. on and on he hastened through the snow, followed by the frightened unridden horse, nor did he stop until, dazed by excitement, the dapple-gray panting and perspiring as though it were a hot day in july, he drew up at the cabin door.

meanwhile john’s captor had been reinforced by the fellow who had failed to catch the quaker.

“nice mess you made of the job, i must say!” angrily growled the man who held john down, the lad’s face buried in the snow, as the other man came up.

by a vigorous squirm, rising partly on his hands and knees, john succeeded in turning over and getting his first look at the fellow who had seized him. instantly he recognized the “indian” who had visited the cabin, still in indian costume, though there was no doubt that his skin was white.

“so it is you, is it, duff?” said the boy calmly as he could. “i would recognize your angelic temper anywhere.”

226

duff paid no attention to the remark, save to hold his captive the tighter, but continued to upbraid his companion for failing to secure the “blasted, pious old fool of a quaker.”

“ain’t no use jawin’; nobody never did nothin’ what they couldn’t do,” the other man made answer.

“and you, too, dexter,” john spoke up. “we had a nice visit with mr. duff, the other evening, and wished you could have come along. and how is it that landlord quilling is not with you?”