Red Eagle was able
to speak a little English, but Paul was too proud to ask him about his own
fate. Not a stoic by nature, the boy nevertheless had a will that could
control his impulses.

He was thrust into a small pole hut, and when the door was tightly
fastened he was left alone there. The place was not more than six feet
square, and only a little higher than Paul's head when he stood erect. In
one corner was a couch of skins, but that was its whole equipment. Some of
the poles did not fit closely together, leaving cracks of a quarter of an
inch or so, through which came welcome fresh air, and also the subdued hum
of the village noises. He heard indistinctly the barking of dogs, and the
chatter of old squaws scolding, but he paid little heed to them because he
felt now the sudden rush of a terrible despair.

The Ohio had been the great wall between Paul and his kind, and with the
steady march northward, through the forests and over the little prairies,
still another wall, equally great, had been reared. It seemed to Paul that
Henry and Shif'less Sol and his other friends could never reach him here,
and whatever fate the Shawnees had in store for him, it would be a hard
one. Wild life he liked in its due proportion, but he had no wish to
become a wild man all his days. He wanted to see the settlements grow and
prosper, and become the basis of a mighty civilization. This was what
appealed to him most. His great task of helping to save Kentucky
continually appealed to him, and now his chance of sharing in it seemed
slender and remote--too slender and remote to be considered.

The boy lay long on his couch of skins. The hum of the village life still
came to his ears, but he paid little heed to it. Gradually his courage
came back, or rather his will brought it back, and he became conscious
that the day was waning, also that he was growing hungry. Then the door
was opened, and Red Eagle entered. Behind him came a weazened old warrior
and a weazened old squaw, hideous to behold. Red Eagle stepped to one
side, and the old squaw fell on Paul's neck, murmuring words of
endearment. Paul, startled and horrified, pushed her off, but she returned
to the charge. Then Paul pushed her back again with more force. Red Eagle
stepped forward, and lifted a restraining hand.

"They would adopt you in place of the son they have lost," he said in his
scant and broken English.

Paul looked at Red Eagle. It seemed to him that he saw on the