voice, the print of a white man's foot, in all that region, would call
the rifle, the tomahawk and the stake. It was forbidden ground.

When near the town, the Chickasaws deserted, taking part of the
ammunition with them. Likely enough they had gone on, to the Wyandots,
with their news. But the three white Indians did not turn back; they
continued, until at dusk one evening they reached the Sandusky River,
close to the Wyandot town.

Captain Brady made his arrangements. He left Scout Wetzel, and taking
John Williamson waded the river to an island separated from the town by
only a narrow channel. Here he and John hid themselves in the brush,
and waited for morning.

The morning dawned in such a fog that they could not see a rod.
Captain Samuel fidgeted. He hated to waste time.

"If it does not clear, I shall go into the village and see what I can
see at close quarters," he said.

However, about eleven o'clock the fog lifted. All the great town, of
hundreds of lodges, lay spread before them, with thousands of Indians
hastening to and fro, preparing to race horses.

It was a gala day for the savage Wyandots. A war party of them had
returned from the south, bringing a fine bag of Virginia and Kentucky
blooded animals. The starting post of the races was squarely in front
of the two spies' hiding place; they could have thrown a stone to it.
For several hours they watched. There was one gray horse that won
every race, until two Indians together mounted him, as a handicap; and
then he barely lost. Captain Brady's fingers itched to grasp that gray
champion's bridle thong--and he was the kind of a man to do so, with
half a chance. But it was not to be, this time.

At dusk that night he boldly entered the town. He did not find the
horse; nevertheless he slipped about, as much an Indian as any
Wyandot--and his heart was in his throat at every step. The air fairly
bristled with danger. One false move on his part, and another Brady
would have fallen to the hatchet.

He strolled carelessly--he gained the edge of the town again and away
he went, to John Williamson on the island.

"Did you make it, Sam?"

"Yes; but be quick. We must cut loose. They suspicioned me--they
smelt a mouse."

They lost no time in joining Scout Wetzel. All this night they
traveled hard, to the southward. At daylight they sighted the sign of
Indians, on their trail. They set out again. Now it was Indian
against Indian, for th