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could hear the festive noises coming up from the show grounds closer to the beach. As the couples and familiesmoved past him, Lean glanced over to where three long wagons were parked under a shady stand of trees. Close to two dozen men loitered about there in small clumps. There was not a single woman or child among them, and Lean noticed several bottles and flasks making the rounds. Apparently he wasn’t the only man who’d been reading the shocking Indian allegations that had flooded every newspaper in the state that afternoon.
    He hurried after the crowd of spectators, wanting to blend in on arrival and avoid being spotted by Grey. The show consisted of several large tents, stages, fenced pens for horsemanship displays, and booths spread out over a few acres of grounds bounded in by the Saco River and the Atlantic Ocean. For the next half hour, Lean searched through the stalls and among the crowds for Grey. As daylight faded, oil lamps hanging from posts all around the grounds were lit. In one great fenced-in area, a small crowd of performers reenacted a battle scene where white settlers, to the rousing cheers of the crowd, fought off a circling party of warriors on horseback. Lean moved on and passed a painted tepee where a kindly faced middle-aged Indian woman by the name of Sister Neptune told fortunes. She also sold various powders and potions designed to ward off the very evils she foretold.
    Elsewhere a small stage was set aside to entertain young children, whose number had dwindled as the sun went down and some families set off for the return trip on the dummy train. A puppet show told some story involving a giant eagle and Glooskap, the man created from nothing, an Algonquin Indian trickster hero. A riding display included the famous Sable Island Ponies, said to be untamable. Nearby, an attractive Indian woman with long braids and a fringed buckskin suit, decorated with purple and white wampum beads, made trick rifle shots, including an over-the-shoulder target practice performed with a hand held mirror.
    On closer inspection Lean noticed that a superb juggler in full warrior regalia, handling four razor-sharp tomahawks, turned out to be a white man. The fact did little to dampen his appreciation of the man’s skill. He moved on, passing booths where vendors hawked Indian oils,ointments, and syrups. The big seller was the Sagamo Indian Elixir. As Lean approached a raised platform near the entrance to the grounds, he recognized the old Indian he’d seen on the flyer earlier. The man, announced as Chief White Eagle, praised the elixir as a great pain reliever that remedied everything from cold stomach to jaundice, dropsy, and stranguary.
    As Lean approached, he caught sight of Grey staring straight back at him. Grey, dressed in a charcoal frock coat with dark striped pants and holding a fancy steel-gripped walking stick, wandered over as the Indian began his pitch.
    “Finally, Lean. Why on earth didn’t you just take the earlier train?”
    “Enjoying yourself, then?”
    “Not at all. A horribly disappointing display. Half the performers are not even Indians. And I can promise you that if any Mohegan Indians were still alive and here today, they wouldn’t be dressed in these costumes, which have no business anywhere east of the Mississippi.” Grey waved in the direction of a passing performer wearing a full headdress with strands of feathers at the back running all the way to his knees. “It’s a complete fraud and mockery of actual Algonquian Indian culture.”
    “It’s just a show, Grey.”
    “So was throwing Christians to the lions.” Grey gestured toward the nearby medicine display. “It’s not wholly a loss. Old Chief White Eagle is, despite his name, an authentic and very knowledgeable individual.”
    “Knowledgeable about what? Why are you here, Grey?”
    “The same reason as you, I suspect.”
    “I’m investigating you.”
    “I stand corrected.” He gave Lean a bemused look. “I’m