On returning to the village the boy related his story to the old
chief, who listened gravely and at the end said, "The Great Spirit
will be angry."

"Do you believe the 'medicine man' can talk with him?" asked Rodney,
incredulously.

"Ahneota knows the ways of the birds and the beaver, but the ways of
the spirits he does not know. I see the medicine lodge tremble and
hear voices; they are not the voices of Indians."

Rodney did not dare to argue the matter, and there was silence for a
long time. In the flickering firelight the old chief's face was
ghastly.

The boy fell into an unpleasant reverie. Soon would come the moment
when he must flee, for to remain, he was sure, would mean his death.
The difficulties of escape, because of the uprising among the Indians,
had greatly increased.

"Between here and La Belle Riviere are many Mingoes, Delawares and
Shawnees. Little Knife cannot fly nor leap from tree to tree like
panther. He must be brother of Ahneota."

The boy was startled. It seemed to him that the Indian had been
reading his thoughts.

"The paleface comes and Ahneota's brother must take his scalp. That
Little Knife cannot do," Rodney replied.

Silence of many minutes followed. Rodney became uneasy and was about
to leave when the chief, taking a stick in his trembling hand, drew it
over the sand and began to describe the country which lay between them
and the Ohio River.

"Before another moon," he said, "the palefaces will come in many
canoes to the Indians' country. Little Knife will run to meet them. He
will not be the brother of the chief. He must go to his people. He
must go like the fox."

The following day Ahneota called in several men of the village and
Rodney. Then, giving his rifle to the boy, he said: "Little Knife has
been brother of Ahneota, has brought him meat when he starved. He must
have gun to bring more meat, for the chief is old and cannot hunt."

The Indians did not look pleased, for the rifle was a valuable one and
much coveted. One said, "White blood must be washed away," but, as the
old chief made no reply, they went away.

As the boy started to leave the lodge the Indian lifted his head and
said, "When Little Knife points the old chief's gun at man, let him
not see the colour of skin."

Rodney now began to store up, against the emergency he knew was
approaching, a stock of dried venison, and hominy and parched corn.
His experience when surrounded by hostile savages had