“What! At Croghan’s? Inside our line!” I exclaimed incredulously.
“Aye. But this time the message sewed within them differed from all the others. And on the shred of bark was written: ‘Swift moccasins for little feet as swift. The long trail opens. Come!’“
“You think your mother wrote it?” I asked, astounded.
“Yes� . She wrote the others.”
“Well?”
“This writing is the same.”
“The same hand that wrote the other messages throughout the years?”
“The same.”
“Have you told the Sagamore of this?”