From him, too, I learned that we were not to make our preparations unwatched.
Once, as we were coming from the Rappahannock to the York, he darted suddenly into the undergrowth below the chestnuts.

My eye could see no clue on the path, and, suspecting nothing, I waited on him to return.
Presently he came, and beckoned me to follow.

Thirty yards into the coppice we found a man lying dead, with a sharp stake holding him to the ground, and a raw, red mass where had been once his head.
"That was your messenger, brother," he whispered, "the one who was to carry word from the Mattaponey to the north.

See, he has been dead for two suns." He was one of the tame Algonquins who dwelt by Aird's store.
"Who did it ?" I asked, with a very sick stomach.
"A Cherokee.

Some cunning one, and he left a sign to guide us." He showed me a fir-cone he had picked up from the path, with the sharp end cut short and a thorn stuck in the middle.
The thing disquieted me horribly, for we had heard no word yet of any movement from the West.