“They are not the men to be laggards. I can not understand what Carl was doing here. He certainly was not sent out on purpose to shoot you. I could give a reason if I knew where Wampset was.” “I know just where he is encamped.” “Where is he?” “About twenty miles away. An Indian of the Narragansett tribe, who came into Windsor the day after you left, told us where he was. I know that man. He is an outcast from all tribes, and yet he maintains himself against any force they can bring against him. He must have a powerful mind.” “He has. I have seen him once or twice, and he is a noble Indian. With all his prejudices against the whites, he has none of the cold-blooded animosity of Sassacus, nor the supercilious behavior of Mennawan. But this news troubles me. I doubt not he will come to the aid of the Dutch, for I have heard it said that Van Zandt once did him a great service which the Indian will not hesitate to repay, and now is the Dutchman’s time of want, if ever.” “Then we have, indeed, much to dread, if Wampset is brought against us.” “What Indians were at the post when you came away?” “Only the young son of the Narragansett chief, the Fox.” “None better. He is truly named. Let us hasten. Do you think he will stay in Windsor?” “He said he would until the full moon.” “Good. Make haste.” They hurried into the post. Catching sight of an idler near the gate, Boston called him, and asked him if the “Fox” was yet in the post. Being answered in the affirmative, he desired that he should be sent to him at once. Willie turned away, and entered a log-house in one corner of the stockade, bestowing a smile of recognition upon a young Indian, who was coming out. The latter made his way at once to Boston, who greeted him kindly. “How is the chief, your father?” he asked, touching the young man upon the naked shoulder with his open palm. “How long will it be before he will give the tribe into the hands of his son, who, though he is yet young, has left his mark upon the enemies of his nation?” “The chief is very well, and sends his greetings to the white chief; his warriors hope it will be many years before he lays down the wampum of a head chief for another to take up. Who is worthy to take the mantle of Miantonomah?” “None but his son, when Miantonomah is ready. The young chief has often said that he only waits to do the white man a service. Will he do it to-day?” “When was the Fox unwilling to aid his white brothers?” “It will take him into the forest.” “That is well; the forest is his home.” “He must keep his hatchet keen, for the Pequods may lurk along the track.” “A Narragansett does not fear a Pequod.” “It is well; now let the Fox listen.” In a few decided words, the Yankee informed the young man what he wished him to do. Having thoroughly mastered it and acquiesced in the service, he took his weapons, tightened his belt, and left the post, taking the trail which led to the camp of Wampset. CHAPTER VIII.