A  SINGLE glance told me who our unwelcome visitor must be. That giant body, surmounted by the huge broad face, could belong to none other than the Wyandot, Sau-ga-nash,—him who had spoken for the warriors of his tribe before the torture-stake. He stood erect and rigid, his stern, questioning eyes upon us, his lips a thin line of repression. With a quick movement, I thrust the girl behind me, and faced him, motionless, but with every muscle strained for action. The Indian spoke slowly, and used perfect English.  
"Ugh!" he said. "Who are you? A prisoner? Surely you cannot be that same Frenchman we helped entertain last night?"
 
"I am not the Frenchman," I answered deliberately, vainly hoping his watchful eyes might wander ? 338 ? about the lodge long enough to yield me chance for a spring at his throat, "though I was one of his party. I only came here to bring comfort to this poor girl."
 
"No doubt she needs it," he replied drily, "and your way is surely a good one. Yet I doubt if Little Sauk would approve it, and as his friend, I must speak for him in the matter. Do you say you are also a prisoner? To what chief?"
 
"To none," I answered shortly, resolved now to venture all in a trial of strength. He read this decision in my eyes, and stepped back warily. At the same instant Toinette flung her arms restrainingly about my neck.
 
"Don't, John!" she urged, using my name thus for the first time; "the savage has a gun hidden beneath his robe!"
 
I saw the weapon as she spoke, and saw too the angry glint in the fellow's eye as he thrust the muzzle menacingly forward. As we stood thus, glaring at each other, a sudden remembrance made me pause. "Sau-ga-nash"?—surely it was neither more nor less than a Wyandot expression signifying "Englishman." That broad face was not wholly Indian; could this be the half-breed chief of whom I had so often heard? 'Twas worth the chance to learn.
 
"You are Sau-ga-nash?" I asked, slowly, Toinette still clinging to me, her face over her shoulder to front the silent savage. "A chief of the Wyandots?"
 
 
"Don't John! The savage has a gun hidden beneath his robe!"
? 339 ?
 
He moved his head slightly, with a mutter of acquiescence, his eyes expressing wonder at the question.
 
"The same whom the Americans name Billy Caldwell?"
 
"'Tis the word used by the whites."
 
I drew a quick breath of relief, which caused Mademoiselle to release her grasp a little, as her anxious eyes sought my face for explanation.
 
"Recall you a day twelve years ago on the River Raisin?" I asked clearly, feeling confident now that my words were no longer idle. "An Indian was captured in his canoe by a party of frontiersmen who were out to revenge a bloody raid along the valley of the Maumee. That Indian was a Wyandot and a chief. He was bound to a tree beside the river bank and condemned to torture; when the leader of the rangers, a man with a gray beard, stood before him rifle in hand, and swore to kill the first white man who put flint and steel to the wood. Recall you this, Sau-ga-nash?"
 
The stolid face of the listening savage changed, the expression of revengeful hostility merging into one of undisguised amazement.
 
"That which you picture has not left my memory," he answered gravely.
 
"Nor the pledge you gave to that white captain when he brought you safely to Detroit?" I queried, eagerly.
 
? 340 ?
 
"Nor the pledge. But what has all this to do here?"
 
"Only, Sau-ga-nash, that I am Major David Wayland's son."
 
The Indian sprang forward, his eyes burning fiercely; and thinking his movement to be hostile, I thrust the girl aside that I might be free to repel his attack. But he did not touch me, merely peering eagerly into my face with a keen questioning look that read my every feature.
 
"You have the nose and forehead," he reflected aloud; "yes, and the eyes. Before the Great Spirit, I will redeem my pledge; a chief of the Wyandots cannot lie."
 
He paused, and I could mark the varied emotions that swayed him, so deeply was he moved by this strange discovery. Unconsciously my hand clasped Mademoiselle's, for now I felt that our fate hung on his decision.
 
"'Tis a hard task, Master Wayland," he admitted at length, almost wearily, "but for your father's sake it shall be done. I see only one way for it, and that by water. Know you anything about the management of boats?"
 
"Only as I have paddled upon the Maumee," I answered, doubtfully, "although I handled a small sail when a mere boy in the far East."
 
"'Twill suffice if the fair weather hold, as is likely ? 341 ? at this season. At least it may be risked. The land trails are crowded by Indians from far-off tribes, hastening hither in hope of fight and spoils. More than a hundred came in to-day, painted for war, and angry because too late. You could not escape encountering such parties, were you to flee by trail eastward; nor would they show mercy to any white. The Silver-man has returned to his home north of the river; but 'tis all that we who are friendly to him can do to keep these warriors from attacking even there. 'Tis the Indians from far away that make the trouble; and these grow more numerous and powerful each day. We keep a guard at the house to save the Silver-man and his family; and were more whites to seek refuge there, we should lose all control. There is still safety at the mouth of the Saint Joseph River, and 'tis there you must go. The venture must be made to-night, and by water. Is it known to any Indian that you are alive and within this camp?"
 
"To none."
 
"That is well; we can work best alone. Now listen. At midnight, Master Wayland, a boat, pre pared for the trip, will await you, hidden under the ruins of the Agency building. The river flows under the flooring deep enough for the purpose, and I will place the boat there with my own hand. Beyond that, all must rest upon your own skill and good fortune. You will wait here," and he glanced about anxiously ? 342 ? for some means of concealment, "lying behind those robes yonder, until the hour."
 
"Here?" I questioned, thinking instantly of my duty to De Croix. "But I would first have speech with the Frenchman. He is my friend, Sau-ga-nash. Besides, I have left my rifle in the council lodge."
 
The face of the ............