Strange as it may seem, nothing more was heard from Jacques Valette and
Jean Bevoir, and the Morrises often wondered what had become of them, and
of their companion, Hector Bergerac. They questioned the hunters, both
white and red, but could get no information.

"They must have gone up to the Lakes after all," said James Morris. "If it
is so, I am thankful for it."

"And so am I thankful," added Dave.

As soon as the weather moderated, the hunters and trappers sallied forth
once more, going up and down the Ohio and many miles to the westward. Some
of the Indians used their guns as skillfully as the white men, but when
powder and ball were scarce they fell back upon their bows and arrows, and
it was astonishing what large game they secured.

Once during the winter Dave went out with White Buffalo, on a hunt which
lasted three days. They took their bags full of provisions, and the Indian
chief led the way across the Ohio and into the depths of the forest, which
was entirely new to the youth.

"White Buffalo knows the deer are plentiful here," said the Indian, and so
it proved, for before noon they struck the trail of some of the animals,
and by nightfall had laid a large buck and his mate low. Then they took up
the trail of some other animals and were equally successful.

The evening of the second day's hunt found the pair in the vicinity of an
Indian village called Shilagum, standing not far from where the Muskingum
River flowed into the Ohio. It was only a small place, but noted among the
Shawanoes as the abode of a great medicine man named Paka-Lokalla, or