A few hundred yards from where he had picked up the floating oar, a post was seen sticking up out of the bank. To this was attached a Manilla rope, the broken strands of which showed it to be the other portion of that fastened to the stern of the canoe. The clue was found. Those he had dimly seen in the morning, were doubtless close at hand. He ran the craft in shore, fastened it securely to the post, and landed. With cautious steps he followed the footprints now seen in the soft mud of the bank. They led to a sheltered spot, upon which a rude hut had been erected. The sound of a man's voice arrested his steps. "He, he! I 'clare it makes dis chile larf, to t'ink about de trubble dat's brewing for dem. De long time am comin' round at last. I'se bin a waitin' for it, but it am comin' now." It was Crookleg who spoke; but for the time he said no more. A stunning blow from Nelatu's clubbed rifle--which would have crushed any skull but that of a negro--felled him senseless to the ground. On recovering consciousness, he found himself bound in a most artistic manner by a thong of deer-skin, which Nelatu had found near the hut. "Hush!" said the Indian, in a half-whisper; "not a word, except to answer my questions. Don't move, dog, or I'll dash out your brains!" The negro trembled in every limb. "Is Warren Rody inside that hut?" Crookleg shook his head. "Where is he?" "Don't know, Massa Injun; don't know nuffin 'bout him." "Liar!" "By him tressed life, massa, dis chile don't know." "Answer me--where is Warren Rody? I give you one chance for your wretched life. Tell me, where is Warren Rody?" The raising of a tomahawk above the negro's head convinced him that death would be the sure reward of untruth. "Don't, massa, don't kill de ole nigger. He'll tell you all he knows. Oh, don't kill me!" "Speak." "He _war_ here, but he am gone." "Where?" "Out ob de swamp into de woods." "And Sansuta?" "De gal am gone 'long wid him." Nelatu groaned. Warren, then, was guilty. "Do you know me?" he asked. "Oh, yes, massa, I knows you well--you am Sansuta's brodder. I tole Warren he war a-doin' wrong, but he am so headstrong he would take your sister. Dis chile's begged him not to do it." "False dog! you are deceiving me." "I swear, Mass 'Latu, I'se speaking the bressed trufe." Not deigning to reply, the Indian strode on to the hut, and entered it. It was deserted. A bead bracelet lying inside attested to the truth of that portion of Crookleg's story which told him Sansuta had been there. He returned to the negro. "Rise," he said, in a commanding tone. "I can't, massa; you has tied me so tight that I can't move." "Rise, I tell you," repeated the Indian with a threatening gesture. Beginning to obey, the negro rolled over the ground in the direction of the rifle which Nelatu had laid aside in order to tie him. Could he but reach that, he might defy his raptor. But the Indian was too quick for him.