He and young Brant, the great Thayendanegea that was to be, had
already formed a great friendship, the beginning of which was made
easier by Robert's knowledge of Indian nature and sympathy with
it. The two wrapped in fur cloaks had gone a little distance from the
house, because Brant said that a bear driven by hunger had come to the
edge of the village, and they were looking for its tracks. But Robert
was more interested in observing the Indian boy than in finding the
foot prints of the bear.
"Joseph," he said, "you expect, of course, to be a great warrior and
chief some day."
The boy's eyes glittered.
"There is nothing else for which I would care," he replied. "Hark,
Dagaeoga, did you hear the cry of a night bird?"
"I did, Joseph, but like you I don't think it's the voice of a real
bird. It's a signal."
"So it is, and unless I reckon ill it's the signal of my cousin
Daganoweda, returning from the great war trail that he has trod
against the wild Ojibway, Tandakora."
The song of a bird trilled from his own throat in reply, and then from
the forest came Daganoweda and his warriors in a dusky file. Robert
and young Brant fell in with them and walked toward the house.
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