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Placing his hand upon his head, the man of God addressed him in the tones of a father: "Let Niniotan heed the words of Oonomoo; let him grow up a Christian warrior, and when his spirit leaves this world, it will join his and Fluellina's in the happy hunting-grounds in the sky. Niniotan, I offer you a home at our mission-house so long as you choose to remain.
We saw them through the trees, and hid in the bushes until they had passed, and they searched until night for us." "Where is Fluellina hid?" "Close by the side of the stream which floats by the island, but many miles from it." "How long will it take Niniotan to guide Oonomoo there?" "Four or five hours. The wood is open and clear from briers." "And are the Shawnees upon Fluellina's trail?"
The men stood silent and affected witnesses of the scene. Brushing the luxuriant hair from the face of the dying Indian, the preacher said: "Oonomoo, is there anything I can do for you?" "Where be Niniotan?" "Here," responded the boy, approaching him. "Stand where you be, and see a Christian warrior die," he commanded, in his native tongue. "Where is Fluellina's hand?"
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