Le Bourdon grasped the hand of the Indian, and gave it a hearty
squeeze. Then he said frankly, and like a man who no longer
entertained any doubts:

"I put faith in all you say, Chippewa. That is an officer's letter,
and I now see that you are on the right side. You play'd so deep a
game, at first, hows'ever, that I didn't know exactly what to make
of you. Now, as for the Pottawattamie--do you set him down as friend
or foe, in reality?"

"Enemy--take your scalp--take my scalp, in minute only can't catch
him. He got belt from Montreal, and it look handsome in his eye."

"Which way d'ye think he's travelling? As I understood you, he and
you fell into the same path within a mile of this very spot. Was the
meeting altogether friendly?"

"Yes; friendly--but ask too many question--too much squaw--ask one
question, den stop for answer."

"Very true--I will remember that an Indian likes to do one thing at
a time. Which way, then, do you think he's travelling?"

"Don't know--on'y guess--guess he on path to Blackbird."

"And where is Blackbird, and what is he about?"

"Two question, dat!" returned the Chippewa, smiling, and holding up
two of his fingers, at the same time, by way of rebuke. "Blackbird