Stephen was naturally surprised when, on being awakened, he was informed of the departure of Sewatis with the prisoner; but he did not regard it as a matter of any very great importance, save as it indicated that the disreputable half-breed would not probably be seen in Portsmouth again.
"Most likely Jim Albert did some wrong to the members of Sewatis's tribe, and that is why the old fellow hung around here, waiting for just such a chance as he finally got. I don't see why we should trouble our heads about it."
"I am sorry Sewatis has gone. In addition to being of great assistance to me, he was a companion, and now I shall be entirely alone."
"In that way it has worked you an injury," Stephen replied, carelessly; "but on the other hand, you need not fear the half-breed will hunt you down again in behalf of Sam Haines, which is more than a fair off-set."
Walter made no reply; a sensation of utter loneliness such as he never before experienced had come over him, and he would have been better pleased to know James Albert was seeking an opportunity to arrest him, providing that by such a change in the situation of affairs Sewatis had remained.
It was useless to give words to his troubles, however, and he did his best to appear contented, lest Stephen should carry to his mother the report that her son had lost courage.
Walter prepared the morning meal; Stephen did full justice to it, and then made ready to take his departure.
"I will come again within a week or ten days. What shall I bring?"
"Powder, if you can buy it for me on credit."
"I fancy Master McCleary will provide you with plenty."
"Say to my mother that I suffer for nothing save the opportunity to see her. She knows full well what other words I would speak if she were here."
With a hearty clasp of the hands the two friends I separated, Stephen to make his way through the forest ten miles or more, and Walter to resume the labour which might prove useless.
The would-be miller found it very difficult to continue at his task during that day. More than once he almost decided to remain idle until word should come that he was at liberty to return home; but then he remembered the goal he had set for himself, and laboured more industriously than before.
It was no longer possible, now he was alone, to move the larger logs, and all he could do was to hew them into shape, without an attempt to remove the timbers to the site of the mill.
The days passed slowly and wearily. The Sabbath seemed to have in it three times the usual number of hours. He indulged in hunting only when it became absolutely necessary he should have food, for the supply of powder bid fair to be exhausted before the time set for Stephen's return.
A week elapsed, and the young exile grew more cheerful. His friend must soon come. As for Sewatis, Walter did not believe he would ever see him again.
At the close of the eighth day, when the solitary supper had been cooked and eaten, more as one performs an important duty than something to be enjoyed, Walter was lying on the bed of boughs, dreaming of the time he could return home without fear of an unjust arrest, when a shadow came between his eyes and the fire.
Springing up in alarm, he seized the musket, which stood where it could be reached handily, and made ready to defend himself, for it seemed certain Sam Haines or one of his emissaries had come to carry him to jail.
Sewatis stood before him.
One would have said that the Indian had been absent but a few moments, and was wholly at a Joss to understand the look of surprise on the boy's face.
"I thought you were never coming back!" Walter cried, in a tone of most intense relief.
"Come to see mill," the Indian replied, as he seated himself and began to eat a deer-steak which had been left near the fire.
"I am beginning to fear you will never see one of mine," the boy said, despondently. "I have been foolish enough to think I could borrow as much as would be needed, while money is so scarce in this province."
"Build mill next day," Sewatis said, more indistinctly than usual, because his mouth was full of meat.
Walter understood the Indian to mean that he would continue the work on the morrow, and was not particularly interested in the proposed labour, for during the time he had been alone the possibility of ever getting a sufficient capital seemed an obstacle which could not be surmounted.
"What did you do with Jim Albert?"
"Big rascal! Jim gone Castine; never come back."
"Castine, eh? Well, you took him far enough away, at all events."
"Heap rascal fetch heap money," and Sewatis drew from beneath his blanket a bag which, on being opened, proved to be filled with gold pieces. "Hundred pound; more Jim worth alive."
It was some time before Walter could understand the Indian's meaning, and then the thought came that he had heard some one say the half-breed came to Portsmouth from the Penobscot River.
"Do you mean that there was a price set on Jim's head?" he asked, eagerly.
"Hundred pound," and Sewatis held up the bag once more. "Now build mill."
"But I have nothing to do with that," Walter cried, as the Indian pushed the money toward him.
"Build mill."
"But I surely can't do it with your money, you must understand that."
"Why?"
"Because it—you know I couldn't."
"Would from white man?"
"That is different. If Master McCleary or Master Leavitt would lend it to me, taking a mortgage to secure themselves—"
Sewatis pushed his bag toward Walter once more, and when the latter shook his head, as if to refuse the loan, or gift, which ever it might be called, the Indian rose to his feet, pulling his blanket more closely around him.
"What is the matter? Where are you going?"
Sewatis pointed toward the east, and moved slowly away.
"Come back!" Walter cried, entreatingly. "Come back and help me as you did before."
"Build mill?" and the Indian touched the bag of money with his foot.
"Do you mean that you won't stay unless I use that gold?"
Sewatis nodded.
"Suppose I did take it?"
The Indian seated himself as if to show he would remain.
It was fully an hour before Walter spoke again, and during that time he pondered over the matter in all its bearings. It seemed much like taking an undue advantage of Sewatis to use his money, and yet there could be no question but that he was pained when it was refused.
"I don't know why the fact of his being an Indian should prevent me from accepting the offer," the boy said to himself. "I would be perfectly willing to receive a loan from Master Leavitt, who has never shown half the friendship for me this red man has."
Sewatis watched him intently, and finally pushed the bag nearer.
"Yes, I will take it," Walter said, decidedly. "It is only to be loaned, and until I can pay it back you shall have half the profits of the business."
Sewatis nodded in approbation.
"And you are to stay here with me?"
"All time; now I call Injuns."
Walter was wholly at a loss to understand the meaning of this remark until Sewatis rose to his feet, uttering a cry that might well have been mistaken for a night-owl.
In response to it, half a dozen red men, each carrying a burden, came out from among the trees, and depositing their heavy loads in the lean-to, seated themselves before the fire in silence.
Sewatis motioned for Walter to look at that which had been brought, and while the latter wonderingly obeyed, he cut from the haunch of venison a sufficient number of steaks to serve as a hearty meal for the new-comers.
The boy's surprise may be imagined when he discovered that each of the packages was made up of furs, and he understood that the value of the whole lot greatly exceeded the amount of money in the bag.
"Big mill," Sewatis said, in a tone of satisfaction, and then he turned his attention to his followers, leaving Walter to speculate upon the good fortune which had come to him so unexpectedly.
The Indians remained in camp during that night, and at daybreak, after a breakfast of venison, all save Sewatis departed.
Never before had Walter worked as he did on the day succeeding the Indian's return. It was a perfect fever of industry, superinduced by the knowledge that there was now nothing to prevent the consummation of his desires save that which could be done by hands.
His companion appeared as before the coming of Jim Albert, with a single exception, and that was at the close of the fatiguing day's work, when he pointed to a slight elevation overlooking the site of the proposed mill, and said, quietly,—
"Sewatis build house there."
"So you shall, and between the two of us I reckon we can run the business as it should be."
Two days more the boy and his friend worked during every moment of daylight, and then came Stephen Kidder.
"Master McCleary is just behind me," he cried, before Walter could greet him.
"Master McCleary! Why has he come? Is there more danger for me?"
"You are free to go to Portsmouth this day. Samuel Haines has sailed for England, and there is little chance he will ever return."
Before Walter could realize the full bearing which Haines's departure would have upon his own affairs, Andrew McCleary came into view.
"It is a brave spot, my lad, and you have done well to choose it. Master Leavitt gives me great encouragement in regard to advancing the money, but stipulates that he shall be made a partner in the enterprise, you to pay him interest on the entire amount until your debt of one-half is discharged."
"I shall not need his money, for I already have a partner who neither demands interest nor a portion of the profits," Walter replied, laughingly; and then he told his now mystified friends of what Sewatis had done.
McCleary insisted upon taking the Indian by the hand as he praised him, but not a word, either good or bad, could he persuade Sewatis to speak.
The mill was built and opened for business four months after the repeal of the Stamp Act, and Sewatis insisted on pouring into the hopper the first bushel of corn brought to be ground.
This much regarding Walter Neal and his friends is known through the writings of others, and the next mention which is made of either person immediately connected with this story is found in Belknap's "History of New Hampshire" regarding the battle of Bunker Hill, where he writes concerning the three New Hampshire regiments which were mustered into the service of Congress:
"The two former were present in the memorable battle on the heights on Charlestown, being posted on the left wing, behind a fence, from which they sorely galled the British as they advanced to the attack, and cut them down by whole ranks at once. In their retreat they lost several men, and among others the brave Major Andrew McCleary, who was killed by a cannon shot after he had passed the Isthmus of Charlestown."
A letter now before the writer of this story, signed by Walter Neal and addressed to his mother at Portsmouth, tells of his service during the battle, while he was a member of the regiment to which Andrew McCleary was attached, and in it the miller says:
"Tell Sewatis that our noble friend is no more. He has given his life for his country, and when America takes her place among nations, McCleary's name will stand out bright as the sun."
THE END.
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