There was no opportunity, however, for conversation among the captives, who, in spite of the freedom which of late had been granted them by the Shawnees, now were watched more carefully as the warriors sped through the forest. When the band at last arrived at Detroit, Boone was not surprised at the destination. Here several days elapsed before Owaneeyo expressed his purpose to return. Just why Boone had been compelled to accompany the Indians the scout did not yet understand. However, on the day before their departure, Governor Hamilton summoned Owaneeyo and Daniel Boone to his quarters. After a few preliminary words the Governor said to the Indian: "I will give you L100 for the ransom of this man." A scowl instantly appeared upon the face of the chief and he turned as if about to depart from the presence of the Governor. Wheeling abruptly about, however, his eyes shining and an expression upon his face which showed how deep his feeling was, he said: "No sell broder. He my broder." As he spoke, Owaneeyo looked steadily into the eyes of the scout, and there was no question in the mind of Daniel Boone as to the sincerity of the young chief's feelings. "But he is a white man," protested the Governor. "He my broder," declared Owaneeyo, as if no further explanation need be made. "Ask him if he would rather go with you or stay here." "I would rather go," said Daniel Boone, "than have you pay so much gold for my release. The Shawnees have been good to me, and though I am a white man, my own friends and country could not deal more kindly with me than have Owaneeyo and his tribe." "No take gold," said Owaneeyo, and strode from the Governor's quarters as he spoke. Boone delayed a few minutes, explaining to the Governor that it would be impossible for him to accept such a ransom, saying in his simple way: "I am in the hands of a greater Governor than even you, Governor Hamilton, and I am sure that the right in the end will be done." Apparently the commander was not yet fully persuaded, for on the following morning, before the Shawnees departed from Detroit, several of the Englishmen at the post, deeply touched with sympathy for the scout in his captivity, came to Boone himself with offerings of money for his release. The sturdy scout smiled, however, and shook his head, explaining that it would be impossible for him to accept such benefits which would forever be beyond his power to return or repay. "But you need never return the money to us. It may be our turn to be prisoners of the Indians soon, and then some one will have to do for us what we now are trying to do for you," protested one of the men. "I cannot take your gifts," said the hunter shortly. It was manifest that all efforts to induce him to change his decision would be fruitless.