g something about her
son, next."

During the preceding dialogue, there had been something equivocal in
the expression of the Indian's face. Every word he uttered about the
party, its numbers, and his own manner of falling in with it, was true,
and his countenance indicated that he was dealing fairly. Still, the
captain fancied that he could detect a covert fierceness in his eye and
air, and he felt uneasiness even while he yielded him credence. As soon
as Mrs. Willoughby, however, interposed, the gleam of ferocity that
passed so naturally and readily athwart the swarthy features of the
savage, melted into a look of gentleness, and there were moments when
it might be almost termed softness.

"Good to have moder"--said Nick, kindly. "Wyandotte got no squaw--wife
dead, moder dead, sister dead--all gone to land of spirits--bye'm-by,
chief follow. No one throw stone on his grave! Been on death-path long
ago, but cap'in's squaw say 'stop, Nick; little too soon, now; take
medicine, and get well.' Squaw made to do good. Chief alway like 'e
squaw, when his mind not wild with war."

"And _your_ mind, Wyandotte, is not wild with war, now," answered
Mrs. Willoughby, earnestly. "You will help a mother, then, to get her
son out of the hands of merciless enemies?"

"Why you t'ink merciless? Because pale-face dress like Injin, and try
to cheat?"

"That may be one reason; but I fear there are many others. Tell me,
Wyandotte, how came you to discover that Robert was a prisoner, and by
what means did he contrive to give you his letter?"

The Indian assumed a look of pride, a little blended with hauteur; for
he felt that he was manifesting the superiority of a red-man over the
pale-face, as he related the means through which he had made his
discoveries.

"Read book on ground," Nick answered gravely. "Two book alway open
before chief; one in sky, t'other on ground. Book in sky, tell
weather--snow, rain, wind, thunder, lightning, war--book on ground,
tell what happen."

"And what had this book on the ground to do with my son, Wyandotte?"

"Tell all about him. Major's trail first seen at mill. No moccasin--
much boot. Soldier boot like letter--say great deal, in few word. First
t'ink it cap'in; but it too short. Den _know_ it Major."

"This sounds very well, Nick," interrupted the captain, "though you
will excuse me if I say it is going a little too far. It seems
impossible that you should know that the print of the foot was tha