In a minute I was sunk in a heavy sleep.
I woke to see two men standing in the tent door.

One was the chief Onotawah, and the other a tall Indian who wore no war paint.
They came towards me, and the light fell on the face of the second.

To my amazement I recognized Shalah.

He put a finger on his lip, and, though my heart clamoured for news, I held my peace.
They squatted on a heap of skins and spoke in their own tongue.

Then Shalah addressed me in English.
"The maiden is safe, brother.