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We had all lighted our pipes, and Obed was about to begin his narrative, when an Ottoe Indian came and said a few words to John Pipestick, who was sitting with us. "Our chief, Waggum-winne-beg, is anxious to see you," said he to me. "He feels very ill, and as he believes you to be a mighty medicine-man, he thinks that you can certainly cure him."
Indeed we had enough to do to keep our scattered enemies at bay. We found old Waggum-winne-beg considerably recovered, and John Pipestick not much the worse for his wounds: indeed, it is extraordinary what knocking about a red-skin will take without suffering materially, provided he keeps clear of the fire-water.
The white men were collected round one fire; the Indians who had come with Obed had three or four among them; while the tents of Waggum-winne-beg and his followers were in the centre, with a fire burning in the middle of each of them.
I was not sorry to find that my friends were almost as much tired as I was, and that they would remain another whole day to rest. During the day, however, I received a piece of information from John Pipestick, which somewhat discomposed me. I found that the old chief, my host Waggum-winne-beg, proposed bestowing on me one of his daughters to become my wife.
Probably the wood swarmed with them, yet I did not see a sign of fear among any of my friends. Old Waggum-winne-beg was in his element, and he was ably seconded by John Pipestick. To send any more scouts into the wood would have been perfect madness; so, each man sheltering himself as best he could behind trees and bushes, and logs of fallen timbers, we waited in silence for the attack.
I had an affectionate parting from old Waggum-winne-beg, who once more pressed his beautiful Firefly on me; but my heart was proof against even her brilliant attractions. The young lady pouted a little when I wished her good-bye, and, I have no doubt, thought me a man of very bad taste. Once more our course was turned towards the West.
I cannot say that I had any repugnance to the meat, for after living on wolves' flesh for so long it was to me a delicate luxury. I objected rather to the quantity than the quality of the food placed before me, for the old chief Waggum-winne-beg was his name, at least it sounded like that wishing to do me unusual honour, gave me a double allowance each time he stuck his stick into the pot.
The Raggets, Sam Short, Pipestick, and I took the lead in directing the defence, and we were soon joined by old Waggum-winne-beg, who got up, in spite of his wounds and weakness, to give us his assistance. It was evident that our enemies had been reinforced, though it was still too dark to count them with anything like accuracy.
I told you of Firefly's accomplishments; her sister Glow-worm is equal to her. You shall have a large tent where they can dwell together in harmony, for among their other perfections their tongues are never addicted to wrangle. Take them, then, my friend: be my son, and be happy." This pathetic appeal did not influence me as forcibly as Waggum-winne-beg had hoped it might do.
Old Waggum-winne-beg had received a desperate wound on his shoulder, and had been beaten to the ground; the gallant Pipestick had been brought on his knee, and I found myself without support on either side just as a gigantic chief with uplifted battle-axe made a desperate rush at me.
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