Pa looked up at his wife, his brown eyes thoughtful. “Now, Ma, I don’t think he did anything so wrong. He was probably afraid we would try to keep him from going, so he just left quietly in the night. I don’t believe he was ungrateful. As Jim says, he probably longed for his own people.” Jim finished his breakfast in silence and then suddenly said, “Do you suppose some of the Indians came for him?” Jim’s eyes flashed in excitement. Pa picked up his rifle and put on his homespun jacket. “I don’t think they did, Jim, but I’ll have a look around to see if there are new tracks of any kind. I believe I would have heard them. He probably just rode off alone.” Ma began to take away the pewter bowls. “I don’t like it at all. I feel queer, as if we were surrounded by Indians. I’m afraid we aren’t safe here any more.” [Illustration: uncaptioned] Chapter II WAS IT A TRICK? Not long after Wahbunou’s disappearance, a chill north wind blew into the lush Kentucky valley, warning the Hudsons that winter was not far away. Frosty mornings greeted them, and the trees putting on their mantles of brown, red and gold, told them it was time to harvest both turnips and corn. Jim and Pa spent several days gathering them, while Ma did sentinel duty sitting on a stump with her rifle ready for use. But she was uneasy while on guard, jumping at each snap of a twig. Finally the corn was shucked and piled high in one corner of the cabin. Pa stored the turnips in a deep hole near the lean-to, so they would keep all winter. One nippy day when the harvest was finished, Pa turned to Jim after breakfast. “Jim, let’s go hunting today. I’d like to lay in a supply of game before it gets any colder.” Jim’s blue eyes sparkled. “Today, Pa?” “Today’s as good as any time, Jim.” Ma looked troubled. “Must you go, Pa?” Pa nodded and patted his wife’s shoulder awkwardly. “Now Ma, you’ve been nervous and upset ever since Wahbunou went away. I’d think you’d want us to go hunting. Only yesterday you said you were tired of living on rabbit. You’ll be all right here, but don’t leave the cabin. We’ll be home by early evening.” Ma squared her shoulders and bristled a little. “Pa, I haven’t been any more upset than usual. You know I’ve never liked this country; I want to go back to Virginia.” She sighed. “I do know we need fresh meat. Well, I’ll spend the day spinning my flax.” Pa’s brown eyes sparkled in relief. “That’s a good girl, Ma. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get a deer. Then you’ll have a deerskin to make a jacket and some leggings.” “Or maybe we’ll get a bear,” Jim boasted. Soon they were ready to go. Jim was dressed exactly like his father. Each wore home-made moccasins, fur caps, loose thin homespun trousers, topped by long fringed hunting shirts reaching nearly to their knees. Their shirts were held in at the waist by broad belts.