Читать книгу Trail and Trading Post; or, The Young Hunters of the Ohio онлайн

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“The French have many soldiers also,” answered the warrior. “Soon their army will come to the aid of Pontiac and his followers.”

This was a story that had often been told to the red men by the French traders, and many of the Indians believed it. But they waited in vain for help from France, or from Canada. Instead of sending help, the king of France sold his holding along the Mississippi to Spain, so that the Indians were worse off than ever.

As night came on it began to rain gently, while a heavy mist filled the air. The Indians did not like this at all, and after huddling around the campfire for awhile the majority of them crawled into the wigwams and went to sleep. Two of them visited Henry, binding him more securely to the tree than ever, so that to break or slip his bonds was entirely out of the question.

“White boy sleep good,” said one of them, as a joke, and then both stalked over to the fire once more. But the rain and the mist were not to their liking and presently they, too, retired. Then the fire died down gradually, and the Indian village became as quiet as a graveyard.