It is better to pretend to fall in with their ways, if we are to retain life, and ever to secure freedom." But Paul only turned his back again and remained silent.

Yet with the food and rest the ache died out of his head, and he was permitted to wash off the blood caused by the heavy blow from the flat of a tomahawk.

Then he crossed the Ohio with the band.
Paul was in a canoe with Red Eagle and two other warriors, and Braxton Wyatt was in another canoe not far away.

But Paul resolutely ignored him, and looked only at the great river, and the thick forest on either shore.
He was now more lonely than ever, and the Ohio that he was crossing seemed to him to be the boundary between the known and the unknown.

Below it was Wareville and Marlowe, tiny settlements in the vast surrounding wilderness, it was true, but the abodes of white people, nevertheless.
North of it, and he was going northward, stretched the forest that savages alone haunted.