Chapter IV: Little Moccasin in the Camp

The settler was thoroughly aroused by his little son's startling communication, which appeared too terrible to be true.

"A traitor, Carl?" he said.

"Yes; an Indian who swam the river has been talking to him on the bank."

"It cannot be," replied the incredulous parent. "He is sleeping----"

He paused abruptly, for he made the discovery that but two forms were lying near the boat. The spot lately occupied by the guide was vacant.

Then Abel Merriweather began to believe that Carl had not been mistaken.

"Hist!" said the boy, breaking in upon his father's disturbing thoughts. "He is coming back."

"To your place in the boat--quick! Do not let him see you here."

Little Carl left his father and glided unseen to his couch in the boat, but peeped over the gunwales to watch the traitor's movements.

Slowly and without noise John Darknight came over the hill, and inaugurated a series of cat crawls toward the spot which he had lately deserted. Once or twice he glanced at the settler, whose drooping head appeared to tell him that he still slept, for he recommenced his crawls, and at last, without disturbing his sleeping companions, regained his buffalo skin.

But his movements had not escaped the sentry's eyes, and Carl was regarding him from the boat. The father was a prey to great perplexity; he believed that the guide's movements indicated treason, but he did not know what course to pursue. To discharge him at once might precipitate the bursting of the plot. To keep him longer and watch, seemed the better plan, and was the one which the settler felt inclined to adopt. He did not see how they could ascend the river above the rapids without Darknight's experience, for in the voyage thus far his assistance had proved invaluable.

The night was far advanced and day was no longer remote, when Abel roused Oscar Parton, whose duty it was to stand guard until daylight. He did not impart his suspicions to the impetuous young man, but told him not to close his eyes for a moment, but to watch, for life was at stake. Then, instead of lying by the boat that contained his family, he dropped upon the ground beside the suspected guide, and with a hand at the hilt of his knife, watched the man who was sleeping heavily.

A bird call from the guide's lips, or a suspicious movement, and he might have forfeited his life.

"Father doesn't want to suspect anybody," murmured the boy Carl, who was surprised to see John Darknight sleeping so soundly in the camp after his meeting with Oskaloo on the banks of the river. "I do not know how he came to undertake this trip. We might have been safe where we lived. I know we are not here. He didn't tell Oscar about the treason, for I heard every word that passed between them. Maybe he doesn't think I saw straight. Well, I know I wasn't very close; but I would swear that it was the guide talking to the Indian, and didn't he come up the bank after the redskin left? I have a rifle, and I am going to watch John Darknight myself!"

Having thus delivered himself of his thoughts, Carl Merriweather continued to watch in silence, and he saw that the night was wearing away.

Oscar Parton was wakeful. No sound escaped his ears, and he saw the river growing darker with the dense gloom that precedes the dawn.

Then he redoubled his vigilance, for the hour was suggestive of surprise and massacre; but the gloom gradually departed, and the first streaks of dawn silvered the flowing water.

It was a welcome sight, for the long night of anxiety had worn away, and with strength recruited by repose, the journey could be resumed.

The young sentry was watching the long arrows of light fall upon the waves, when an object startled him. It seemed to have risen from the river's unseen depths, but a second look told him that it was an Indian canoe. It skimmed over the water like a thing endowed with life, and the beholder, eager to inspect its occupant, stepped to the brow of the bank, but with the woodman's usual caution.

The light growing stronger as the day advanced, revealed the tenant of the solitary canoe to the young man, and while he gazed intently, the craft suddenly shot like an arrow to the shore.

Instinctively Oscar Parton raised his rifle, but the movement was detected by the person in the stream, and a hand gave the peace signal.

"I cannot shoot a woman!" the guard murmured, lowering the weapon. "Her coming may be our destruction, but I cannot harm her. Bless me, I believe she is a white!"

The work of a few moments sufficed to bring the canoe to the shore, and when its tenant stepped upon _terra firma_, she was confronted by the curious guard, who had come boldly down the bank.

"White family up there?" the jauntily clad girl said, pointing up the slope.

"What if they are?" said the young borderman, evasively. "Who are you?"

"Areotha," was the reply. "The white people call me Little Moccasin. See!"

With her exclamation she put a foot forward, and displayed, with innocent pride, a tiny moccasin gaily ornamented with beads.

"It is a pretty name, but what do you want here?" asked Oscar.

"Want to tell white father that Little Moccasin has seen him."

"Seen whom?"

"Don't you know--the young white spy who tracks the red men for the Blacksnake?" the girl said with surprise.

"No."

Little Moccasin was nonplussed.

"Me see him," she said at length, and her deep eyes brightened. "Him and the tall hunter come by and by, maybe."

"Assistance, eh?" said Parton, catching the import of her words. "Well, we shall not reject it. You don't hate the whites, then?"

"Little Moccasin their friend."

"But you are not an Indian. Your skin is like mine."

"Been Indian long time, though," the girl said with a smile. "Have Indian mother--the old Madgitwa--in the big Indian village."

"Don't you know where you were born, Areotha?" questioned Parton.

The girl shook her head.

"Come up to the camp. I believe that you are true to our people. We have a girl up there who will like you."

"Little Moccasin like her already," was the artless answer.

Having made her canoe fast to the bank by a rope of twisted sinews, the mysterious girl followed Oscar Parton up the slope. He led her straight to the encampment, where her unexpected appearance created much excitement, and she was immediately surrounded.

Abel Merriweather was the first to question her, and Areotha was about to reply when she caught sight of John Darknight, the guide.

The next moment every vestige of color fled from her face, and, staring at the guide, she started back.

She looked like a person who had suddenly been confronted by a spectre.

At that moment John Darknight's face assumed a bold, defiant and threatening aspect; but it was as white as Areotha's.