Our two friends watched him as he shuffled across the clearing, and finally disappeared in the shadowy wood beyond.
Then the Huron turned to the duty before him.

Taking a northerly direction, he proceeded at such a rapid walk that the young soldier was compelled every now and then to run a few steps to maintain his place beside him.

He kept up his pace for a half-hour or so, when he suddenly halted.
"Fast walk--make breathe fast," said he, his black eye sparkling.
"It is rather rapid walking, Oonomoo, but I can stand it.

Don't stop on my account." "Plenty time--git dar mornin'-- soon enough." "How far are we from the Shawnee village ?" "Two--eight--dozen miles--go in canoe part way." "When will we rescue her from the dogs--the Shawnees ?" asked the young Lieutenant, scarcely able to restrain his curiosity.
"Dunno--may be can't get her 't all." "Won't get her ?" he repeated, his heart throbbing painfully.

"My God, Oonomoo, why do you say that ?" "'Cause true--hain't got her yit--may be won't--Shawnee watch close--t'ink Oonomoo 'bout." "But you _expect_ to rescue her, do you not ?" "Yeh, 'spect to--do all can--ain't sartin--mustn't t'ink I am--be ready for her dead." "I will try to be prepared for the worst, Oonomoo, but I place great hopes on you." "Place hopes on Him--He do it, may be." Never, to his dying day, did Lieutenant Canfield forget the rebuke of that Huron Indian.