The young Shawnee leaped high into the air and fell dead upon the sand. Doubtless he never knew of the unwilling treachery of his foster-brother by which he and his father had lost their lives. CHAPTER XV GATHERING CLOUDS The grief of the white Shawnee at the death of his foster-brother was pitiful to behold. Even Sam Oliver and his companions, who seldom showed any sympathy for the Indians, were not unmoved by his agonized cries of grief. In the Shawnee tongue, some words of which all the white men present understood, the young stranger poured forth his sorrows. He called upon the spirits of his foster-father and brother to wait for him in their journey to the happy hunting-grounds. He explained that in no way had his treachery been of his own choosing. In spite of his protest, he explained, he had been compelled to direct the white men to the place where those who were nearest and dearest to him had fallen before their fire. Several minutes elapsed and no one of the settlers spoke. Then Sam Oliver said sharply: "We have had enough of this! I feel just about as guilty as I do when I shoot a panther cub." Without a further word the hunter stepped to the place where the body of the young Indian was lying and scalped his victim. Even Peleg, hardened though he was to the scenes that were enacted upon the border, shuddered as he saw his companion perform this act. At the urgent request of Peleg the white Shawnee was permitted to return with his newly found friend to bury the body of his foster-father, after his brother also had received decent burial at his hands. When this act, in which Peleg had aided, was completed, the young hunter turned to his heartbroken companion and said, "You must come to the fort with me." "No go! No go!" wailed the visitor. "I do not blame you very much," acknowledged Peleg, "but you have no other home, and you might just as well come with me. I am sure you will be treated kindly, and as soon as Daniel Boone comes back you need have no further fears. If you go back to the Shawnees they will think you have betrayed your father and brother. Of course I understand that you did not do anything of the kind." "Me do! Me false to me fader," interrupted the white Shawnee, his lamentations breaking forth afresh. "What is your name?" abruptly demanded Peleg. The reply of his companion sounded to him very like Tontileaugo, but although it was repeated several times Peleg was unable to pronounce it distinctly. "I might call you Tonti, and I might call you Henry. Which do you like better?" "No call Tonti." "Then I will call you Henry. Don't you remember what your name was when you were a white boy?" "Henry" shook his head, although plainly he was striving to recall the name which belonged to the years that were now dim in his memory. "You come with me," said Peleg.