le, for his struggle with the
dead warrior had wearied him.

His captors were real red athletes, with great breadth of chest, and
strong arms. They regarded him with much curiosity, and did not speak
until the boat began to ascend the stream.

"The Blacksnake's spy!" said one, half interrogatively, as he peered
into the young man's face.

His accent told Parton that he was a Shawnee.

"I am not a spy," was the reply, "I have never trailed the Indian, with
a rifle ready to take his life."

The red men exchanged significant glances, and the youngest, a youth of
eighteen, spoke:

"Pale face is a Yengee."[C]

[C] Yankee or American.

"I am an American," Oscar said, knowing that an attempt to conceal his
national identity would result in no good to him. "I have lived at the
mouth of the Swift River,[D] lifting no arm against the Indian."

[D] The Maumee. So called on account of its rapids.

"But why is white man here?" asked the Shawnee.

Then followed the narrative of the flight of the Merriweather family,
and the story of Kate's abduction. The two Indians listened without
interruption; but at certain stages of the narration they exchanged
meaning looks.

It was evident that they credited the story, for the young man told it
in a plain, straightforward manner, embellishing it with no rhetoric.

"White guide steal girl?" the young Indian--a Seneca--said, and the
elder nodded his head in confirmation. "Him bad man. Decoys boats to the
wrong side of river for the red man. Parquatoc no like him, for he makes
war on women and children."

For several moments the savages conversed together in whispers, and in
the Indian tongue, of which the captive caught but few words which he
understood. His fate appeared to be the subject of conversation, and he
waited with much anxiety and impatience for the end of the council.

Escape was not to be thought of, for his limbs were bound, and he would
have sank beneath the waves like a stone if he had thrown himself from
the boat.

At last the dark heads separated, and the young settler looked into the
Indian's eyes as if seeking the decision there before he should hear it
from their tongues.

But he was doomed to disappointment, for the red Arabs did not speak,
though the one who had called himself Parquatoc guided the boat toward
the shore.

Oscar thought that the youth's eye had a kindly gleam, and tried to make
himself believe that no murderous light was in th