6
“My uncle hasn’t moved,” Ishmael said in a forlorn voice when Duncan found him by the sawmill, still watching Conawago. “Except to reach into his pouch and put on an old wampum necklace. Every few minutes he lifts his amulet and seems to speak to it. I tried to talk with him, and he didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to know I was there.”
Duncan sent Munro back to the inn and stayed with Conawago’s nephew, watching in painful silence for several minutes. The men in the log yard were winding down their work for the day, gathering their long bark spudders and cutting tools in the fading light. As they walked away, Duncan moved in a wide arc that kept him out of Conawago’s line of sight, stopping in the shadow of a stack of massive oak and maple logs.
“Git out, ye damned beggar!” a stout,
