Wahbunou whispered, “_Shemolsea_—Long-Knife. Men who carry long knives. You know your father had one. He is _Shemolsea_.” “Oh! You mean all of us Kentucky settlers are Long-Knives?” Jim started to stand up, but Wahbunou pulled him down. “Do you want them to kill you, Jim?” he whispered in terror. “Why, they wouldn’t kill us. Maybe I might know some of them.” Jim raised up to take another look at the men. Their column had turned southwest and Jim could no longer see their faces. There were so many men Jim was afraid to call out to them. “I wonder who they are and where they’re going,” he muttered, half to himself. Wahbunou was whispering, “As soon as they’ve gone, we’ll have to ride fast and tell Chief Minnemung about the many, many Long-Knives we’ve seen.” “I think I’ll go and join them,” Jim cried, scrambling up from the tall grass. Wahbunou tripped him and he fell headlong. “No, Jim. That you cannot do. Chief Minnemung would kill me if anything happened to you. You must ride back with me.” Wahbunou looked so frightened that Jim hesitated. He wouldn’t want Wahbunou punished by Chief Minnemung; nor would he want those Long-Knives, whoever they were, to attack the little Potawatomi band. For a few minutes he was silent. Then he said, “Wahbunou, I’ll go back with you, if you’ll promise not to tell anyone we saw these Long-Knives. Promise?” “But maybe they’ll attack us,” Wahbunou replied doubtfully. “Aw, those men aren’t marching after a small band of Indians,” Jim replied. “Is there any town near here?” “Kaskaskia is over that way.” Wahbunou pointed in the general direction the column of men had taken. “It’s another French settlement. We do not go through it on the way to Cahokia. Cahokia is north.” Jim shook his head. He still wondered where those Long-Knives were going—his Long-Knives. Why, they were his people! Suddenly he thought of another plan of escape, this time without involving Wahbunou. Here was his real chance. He turned to tell the Indian boy, but Wahbunou was on his feet signaling to his horse. “Come, Jim. The Long-Knives have gone. I think we can ride now.” Wahbunou mounted his horse and Jim climbed on behind him. As they rode through the prairie grass away from the column of Long-Knives, Jim said, “Wahbunou, I can’t go through with it. I can’t let Chief Minnemung adopt me into the Potawatomi tribe. My countrymen are close at hand. I can join these white Long-Knives and perhaps they will know something of my father and mother.” Wahbunou trembled as he cried out, “Jim! You must not leave me. You must go back to Chief Minnemung. He will kill me if I return without you.” Jim became thoughtful; then he said, “Wahbunou, it wouldn’t be your fault if I left the camp tonight.” Wahbunou gulped. “You wouldn’t dare do that, Jim.” Jim nodded. “Wouldn’t I? You did. You stole away from us and went back to your people.”