backward and forward.

"Dat is enough!" thought Hans Vanderbum. "Dere's somebody dere dat
wants to see me, and is afeard of dese oder chaps about, so I goes to
him."

Working his way cautiously backward, he reached the land and started
apparently to return to his wigwam. As he did so, he looked at the
Shawnees and was gratified to see that their suspicions had not been
aroused by his movements. Proceeding some distance, he hid his fish
and line and made his way up the river, escaping the Shawnees by means
of a long _détour_.

Reaching the stream and tree, he was somewhat taken aback by not
finding any one at all. Considerably perplexed, he looked about him.

"Can't be dat Quanonshet and Madokawandock have been fooling deir poor
old fader again," said he. "I'm purty sure I seen some one on the
tree, when dem pieces of bark come swimming downstream."

A subdued whistle reached his ear. Looking behind him, he saw a Huron
Indian standing a few yards away. The eyes of both lit up as they
encountered the gaze of each other, for they were both friends and old
acquaintances.

"Ish dat you, Oonomoo?" inquired Hans Vanderbum.

"Yeh--me--Oonomoo," replied the Indian, pronouncing his name somewhat
differently from the Dutchman, (and from that by which we have before
referred to him).