In this lurid
light Henry suddenly saw them savage, inhuman, implacable. They were
truly creatures of the wilderness, the lust of blood was upon them, and
they would shed it for the pleasure of seeing it flow. Henry's primeval
world darkened as he looked upon them.
He was about to leave with Black Cloud and his friends when it occurred
to him to ask which way the war party was going and who were the
destined victims. He spoke to two or three warriors until he came to one
who understood the tongue of his little tribe.
The man waved his hand toward the south.
"Off there; far away," he said. "Beyond the great river."
Henry knew that in this case "great river" meant the Ohio and he was
somewhat surprised; it was still a long journey from the Ohio to the
land of the Cherokees, Chickasaws and Choctaws with whom the Northern
tribes sometimes fought, and he spoke of it to the warrior, but the man
shook his head, and said they were going against the white people; there
was a village of them in a sheltered valley beside a little river, they
had been there three or four years and had flourished in peace; freedom
so long from danger had made them careless, but the Shawnee scouts had
looked from the woods upon the settlement, and the war band would slay
or take them all with ease.
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