The Lost Trail

CHAPTER XXIV

DEERFOOT

When Deerfoot the Shawanoe bade good-by to Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub, it was with the declaration that they would soon see each other again. Precisely what he meant would be hard to say; but probably it implied that he would take pains in the near future to make them a visit when they should be settled in their own log-cabins at home.

He left them, as has been intimated, because he believed there was no further need of bearing them company, and because business of great importance to himself demanded that he should take another course, and travel many long miles toward that wild region in the southern part of Missouri, which is broken and crossed by the Ozark range of mountains.

For fully an hour after he turned away from his friends he pushed through the forest in a south-western direction. He advanced at a leisurely pace, for there was no call for haste, and he loved to be alone in the vast solitude, where he often held sweet communion with the Great Spirit, whom he worshiped and adored with a fervency of devotion scarcely known except by those who have died for His sake.

The sun had descended but a brief way in the western sky when the youthful warrior found himself steadily climbing an elevation of several hundred feet. He had been over the ground before, and he knew that, after passing the ridge, the surface sloped downward for many miles, shutting the Mississippi out of sight altogether.

For some time a suspicion had been steadily taking shape in the mind of Deerfoot, and it was that which led him to hasten his footsteps until he reached the crest of the elevation, where he paused to make an investigation.

The thought which ran through his mind was the probability that all danger from the Miamis and Shawanoes (especially the latter) was not yet at an end. He reasoned from well established facts; they knew beyond question that it was he who had outwitted them in his efforts to save the boys when they were placed in such extreme peril. The Shawanoes hated him with an intensity beyond description, and, despite the repeated disasters which had overtaken those who sought, his ruin, they would strive by every means to revenge themselves upon him.

What more likely, therefore, than that they had crossed the Mississippi in pursuit? The certainty that they had done so would have caused Deerfoot no misgiving, so far as he was concerned, but his fear was for the boys. He reasoned that the Shawanoes would follow the trail of the three, including also that of the stray horse. When they reached the point where Deerfoot left them they would read its meaning at a glance. They would know the whites were following the animal, while the Shawanoe had gone about his own business.

Deprived of his matchless guidance and skill, the destruction of Jack and Otto would seem so easy that two or three would hasten after them. The action of their guide would naturally imply that he had no thought of any such attempt on the part of his enemies, who, therefore, would be the more strongly tempted to go in quest of his scalp.

As I have said, Deerfoot could laugh at all such strategy when directed against himself, but he was uneasy about the others, who would never think of their danger until too late. Ordinarily they were not likely to encounter any red men, except the half friendly Osages, and would be without protection against a stealthy shot from the woods behind them.

If such an issue threatened, Deerfoot felt that his duty was clear: he must spare no effort to protect the boys to the last extremity, and it was the hope that he would be able to catch sight of some almost invisible sign which would tell the truth that led him to halt on the crest of the elevation and gaze long and searchingly toward the Dark and Bloody Ground, which had been the scene of so many fearful encounters between the pioneers and untamable red men.

The great river was several miles distant, the almost unbroken forest stretching between. Deerfoot narrowly scrutinized the yellow surface as far as the eye could follow the winding course, but not the first evidence of life was to be seen. Not a solitary canoe or wild animal breasted the swift current which is now laden with thousands of crafts of almost every description.

The searcher after truth hardly expected to discover anything on the river itself, for if the Shawanoes were hunting for him they had crossed long before; but away beyond, in the solemn depths of the Kentucky wilderness, burned a camp-fire, whose faint smoke could be traced as it rose above the tree-tops. A careful study of the vapor led Deerfoot to suspect that it had served as a signal, but it was beyond his ken to determine its nature.

There was nothing on the other side of the Mississippi which could afford the faintest clew, and he began the study of Louisiana, so far as it was open to his vision. His altitude gave him an extended survey toward every point of the compass. As it was impossible that any of his enemies should be to the west of him, he did not bestow so much as a glance in that direction.

Again and again the keen eyes roved over the space between him and the great stream, but nothing rewarded the visual search. It was not to be expected that if the Shawanoes were stealing along his trail they would stop to build a fire—at least not before night closed in. The only circumstances under which they would attempt anything of the kind would be in the event of their wishing to signal some message to those left on the other shore. Possibly they wanted reinforcements, or wished those who were in waiting to make some movement of their own, and, if so they would be sure to telegraph.

If such was the case, the telegrams had been sent and the instrument—that is, the camp-fire had been destroyed. Nothing of the sort was now to be seen.

But Deerfoot did discover something to the northward. A long distance away could be detected another column of vapor—slight, but dark, and with a wavy, shuddering motion, such as is observed when the first smoke from the fire under an engine rises through the tall, brick chimney.

He watched it fixedly for several minute and then smiled, for he rightly interpreted its meaning.

"There is the wigwam of the Osage chief, Wish-o-wa-tum, the Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, who lives alone with his family in the woods, and smokes his pipe. He cares not for Miami or Huron or Shawanoe, but smokes in peace."

Inasmuch, as no other vapor met the eye, the sagacious Shawanoe adopted a very different line of investigation, or rather research. He was able to tell where the lesser elevation stood, on which he had bidden good-by to the boys, and could form a tolerably correct idea of the line he had followed since then.

If the Shawanoes were pushing the search for him, several must be somewhere along that line. Most of the time they would be effectually hidden from sight by the foliage of the trees, but there were open places here and there (very slight in extent), where they would be visible for the moment to one who fixed his eyes on that particular spot. On the site of the encampment, where the little party had eaten their meal, and where not the slightest ember remained, the pursuers would halt for a brief consultation. If they divided into two companies of pursuit, it was there the division had taken or would take place.

Unfortunately the vegetation was so abundant just there, that he could not hope to catch sight of any of his enemies, until after they should reach a point a considerable distance away. It would therefore seem impossible for him to tell whether a portion of the war party turned to the northward in quest of the boys, or whether they all concentrated in the search for Deerfoot himself.

It would appear beyond his power, I say, for the extraordinary youth to settle the question, while standing carefully hidden behind the trunk of a tree, but a single slight chance presented itself, and to that he appealed.

He knew the general direction of the horse's trail after it had left the spot where Deerfoot parted company with his friends. Unless it turned abruptly to the right or left, it led across an open space, which was in plain view of the Shawanoe, and provided the crossing had not already been made, he would be able to observe it.

He therefore watched this opening with a keenness which would permit nothing to elude it. His brain had handled the problem with the certainty of intuition. Following a process of reasoning which cannot be fully explained, he convinced himself that the redskins had not yet fled across the narrow space. Whether they were to do so or not would be determined in a brief while.

If the savages hunting Jack and Otto had gone beyond the point named, before Deerfoot fixed his attention on it, then it followed of necessity that those who were so eager to suspend the scalp of the youth from the ridge-pole of their wigwams were at that moment close upon him. In any event, he was morally certain the whole question would be settled within the coming hour, for, if no sign appeared, it would be a sign of itself that nothing was to be feared.

Fully aware of the woodcraft of his own people, Deerfoot threw away no chances. He kept closely hidden behind the tree which served as a screen, as though an enemy was in ambush within bowshot.

He waited a briefer time than he anticipated. His eyes were flitting hither and thither, when a couple of warriors deliberately walked across the opening on which his attention was fixed. Though only two, they moved in Indian file, one directly behind the other.

There could be no doubt they were after the scalps of Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub.

It was equally certain that a larger number were hunting for Deerfoot. The fact would not have caused him an additional throb of the pulse, could he have been assured that no harm, would befall his friends. True, they had displayed much courage and brilliancy a few hours before in their contest on the other side of the Mississippi, and it would seem that, with their training from earliest youth, they ought to be able to protect themselves against an equal number of red men. But, reason on the matter as he chose, Deerfoot could not drive away the feeling that it was his duty to go to their help.

"The Great Spirit wills that Deerfoot shall be the friend of the white people who are his friends. The Shawanoes and Miamis have no right on these hunting-grounds," he added, with a dangerous flash of his black eyes; "if they follow Deerfoot here, he will teach them they do wrong."

Clearly it would not do for him to take the back trail and retrace his steps, for that would insure a collision with those who were so anxious to meet him. Much as he detested them, and little as he feared the issue of such a meeting, it would be certain to delay his good offices for those who caused him so much anxiety, and such delay was dangerous.

His purpose was to "cut across lots," that is, to hasten by the nearest route to a point which would place him in advance of the couple that were giving their attention to Jack and Otto, and to carry out that plan necessitated his making no mistake in his judgment as to the trail of his friends.

"The warriors will have to walk until the sun goes down," he said to himself, "before they will come up with them; if they run, or if my friends have paused to rest, then they will find them sooner. Deerfoot must not wait, for he is needed."

He had not yet left his place behind the tree, for he was convinced that some of the Shawanoes were close to him, even though he had received no proof that such was the fact, but that proof came within the following few minutes and before he had yet stirred from his position.

CHAPTER XXV

AT BAY

The "old Indian" asserted itself in Deerfoot the Shawanoe. While every act, and in deed every thought, of the wonderful young warrior was prompted by conscience, yet his views of duty under certain circumstances, were fitted to bring a smile to the face of an impartial judge.

While standing behind the tree on the crest of the elevation, he was sure of two things: he had little time to lose in going to the help of Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub, and the Shawanoes who were trailing him were close at hand. He settled the dispute by deciding to stay where he was a few minutes longer. If his enemies did not appear within that brief period, he would hasten from the spot.

This conclusion on the part of the young Shawanoe presaged a desperate encounter between him and his foes, and he made preparation for it. He set his rifle on the ground, with the muzzle leaning against the tree which served to screen his body, and brought his long bow to the front. Drawing an arrow from its quiver, he glanced at it as if looking for some defect, but he knew none was there, nor was a single shaft of the score and a half in the quiver imperfect in any respect. The youth always made his own weapons. He glued on the feather which guided and steadied the missile in its flight, and he fastened the heads with metal obtained from the whites. Every one of his possessions had been tested and proven.

Deerfoot grasped the bow loosely in the centre, one finger of the same band also holding the arrow in place, with the notch against the deer sinew, not yet drawn backward. The amateur archer will understand that he was in form to bring the shaft to a head on the instant it should become necessary.

It was some five minutes after he had assumed this position, and while looking back over his own trail, that two Shawanoe warriors silently emerged from the bushes fifty yards off, and stealthily approached him. They moved absolutely without noise, for their woodcraft told them they were close upon the most dangerous being they had ever undertaken to hunt.

The foremost lifted his foot just clear of the ground and placed it squarely down again. His head and shoulders were thrown forward, so that most of his long, coarse, black hair dangled on both sides of his neck and over his chest. It hung in front of his face also, and, as his forehead was very low, he had the appearance, while continually glancing from side to side and in front, of a wild beast glaring from behind a hedge. He trailed his rifle in his right hand, the left resting on the handle of a knife, which, with that of a tomahawk, protruded from his girdle. He wore the usual hunting-shirt, leggings and moccasins, his body and limbs being well protected. His blanket would have been only an encumbrance, and while he was engaged in such delicate business, it was left with the canoe on the bank of the Mississippi. The ears when visible through the dangling hair, were seen to hold enormous rings of bone, while the nose hooked over and dipped in a fashion that showed that the organ had at some time held a pendant in the way of an ornament.

The countenance was blackened and disfigured with paint, in the style already made familiar to the reader, and the protuberant nose was rendered more striking by the retreating chin. The Shawanoe was crafty, cunning, treacherous and revengeful, which characteristics it may be said belong to the entire American race.

The second warrior, with the exception of his features, was the counterpart of the leader. Dress, paint, and ornaments, even to the strings of wampum around the neck, were similar. He carried his rifle in the same style, and his left hand rested on the weapons in his girdle. Both were strong and sinewy, and their sight lost not the slightest object in their field of vision.

It was this precaution which apprised them, at the same instant, that they were confronted by the most terrifying picture on which their eyes had ever rested. They halted as if transfixed by a lightning stroke.

Deerfoot the Shawanoe stood behind the trunk of an oak, a foot in diameter, with his arrow drawn to a head and pointed at the heart of the foremost warrior. The matchless youth was at bay, and in the exact posture for launching his deadly weapon—right foot forward, bow grasped in the centre, arrow held by the fingers of the left hand, which were drawn backward of the shoulder, while the bow itself, on account of its great length, was held diagonally in front.

The two Shawanoes who suddenly became aware of their danger, did not see all that has been described, for Deerfoot utilized the shelter so far as he could. Most of his body was carefully protected, and, though the bow was slanted, the lowermost point scarcely showed on the opposite side of the tree from the top of the weapon.

The warriors saw the head, left shoulder and hands of Deerfoot and the upper part of the bow, whose arrow was on the very point of speeding toward them. Directly over the shaft, with head slightly inclined, like that of a hunter sighting over his gun, were the gleaming eyes and face of the young Shawanoe. It looked as if he had turned his head to one side that he might catch the music made by the twang of the string when it should dart forward with the speed of the rattlesnake striking from its coil.

No more startling sight can be imagined than that of a gun aimed straight at us, with the finger of the marksman pressing the trigger. The first proof the pursuers received that they were within sight of the youth they were seeking was of that nature. Both stood for a second or more unable to stir. But their training prevented the spell lasting more than the briefest while.

The second warrior made a tremendous bound directly backward, dropping to a squatting posture as he landed, and then scrambling to cover with a quickness the eye could hardly follow. While employed in doing so, his companion emitted an ear-splitting screech which made the woods echo. He caught a shadowy glimpse of him as he leaped high in the air and fell backward, carrying with him the arrow of the marvelous archer, which had gone clear and clean through his body, and remained projecting both from the breast and back. A defiant shout rang from the elevation, and, peeping timidly forth, the crouching red man saw Deerfoot holding his bow aloft with one hand, while he swung the gun with the other and strode off, his face toward his pursuers.

"Where are the Shawanoes? Do they love to follow Deerfoot across the great river? His heart was sad for them because so many bowed to his bow and arrow—so he left them that his eyes might not look on their warriors who fell by his hand; the Shawanoes are fools, because they follow Deerfoot. They cannot harm him, for he is the friend of the white man, and the Great Spirit gives him his care; let the Shawanoes send Tecumseh and the Hurons send Waughtauk; Deerfoot stayed his hand when the time had come for Waughtauk to sing his death-song, but if the chief trails him across the great river, Deerfoot will not spare him."

The young warrior doubtless would have indulged in further annoying remarks, had he not kept moving all the time, so that his last words were uttered while he was beyond sight of the terrified Shawanoe crouching on the ground; but the voice of Deerfoot was raised to a key which prevented any observation being lost.

The declaration, following the act of the youth, showed that in his mind his relations toward his enemies changed when they followed him beyond the Mississippi. In Kentucky all stood on the same footing, and he often showed mercy, but if they pursued him into Louisiana they became his persecutors, and whoever crossed his path or sought to molest him, did so at his peril. He had voluntarily withdrawn from their chosen hunting-grounds, and they would be wise if they left him alone. He would not flee from them like a hunted deer, but would teach them severer lessons than they had ever yet learned.

The death-yell of the stricken Shawanoe was certain to bring others to the spot, but Deerfoot cared nothing for that. It mattered not if there were a score, for, if he chose to flee, he could out-speed the swiftest runner on either side the Mississippi. With the thousands upon thousands of miles of mountain, prairie, river, and wilderness at his back, he could laugh to scorn the rage of his enemies.

Though he had lived several months in this section, it was the first time his deadly foes had attempted to molest him. Self-defense demanded that they should be shown it would not pay to repeat the attempt.

Still retaining gun and bow, he passed rapidly down the slope, and, having previously fixed in his mind the course to pursue, pushed forward at an easy pace, which was much swifter than would be supposed.

Fast as he journeyed, he had not gone far when five Shawanoes (including him who had so narrowly escaped his bow), hurried to the spot where the smitten warrior lay. They had heard agonized cry in battle and knew what it meant. The second survivor was given but a minute to flee, when he encountered the others rushing thither, and he turned about and joined them. They would have been less arduous had they not known that the terrible Deerfoot was gone, as was shown by his defiant shout, which came from distant point in the woods.

Precisely eight Shawanoes (not a Miami among them) paddled over the Mississippi to hunt the youth: the only two absent from this party were pursuing Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub, while they journeyed toward the northwest, after the stray horse. The occasion, therefore, was a fitting one in which to consult as to the line of policy to be followed.

It may seem incredible, but it is an unquestioned fact, that five of the best warriors of the most formidable tribe in the West decided to give up the attempt to capture or kill a single one of their race whose years were considerably less than those of the youngest member of the party, and that, too, on the ground that the undertaking was too dangerous. One of those five Shawanoes, became converted to Christianity after the war of 1812, and settled in Kentucky, near the home of Ned Preston, to whom he gave the particulars of the council held by him and his comrades more than twenty years before.

Of course no one of the five admitted that personally he was afraid of Deerfoot. All expressed the greatest eagerness to meet him, where a chance to engage in fatal combat could be gained. Apparently no greater boon could befall them than such extreme good fortune.

But they could not shut their eyes to one or two discouraging facts: they had entered a country entirely strange to them, but which was familiar in a great measure to the fleet-footed traitor, who could never find himself lacking for some hole in which to hide himself. It was very much like hunting in an endless forest for the fawn that leaves no scent for the dog to follow.

But worse than all, the Shawanoes could not doubt that the execrated Deerfoot had formed alliance with the Osages, who would give him help whenever wanted. Such being their theory followed that they were not fleeing from a despised foe, but from a whole tribe of Indians. For five warriors to withdraw in the face of such overwhelming odds, could not be construed as cowardice, but only as wise discretion.

Such were the grounds on which the party based their decision, which was accompanied fierce lamentations that the fates had interposed to save Deerfoot from their vengeance.

"We talk that way," said the old Indian, long years afterward, while telling the story in broken English, "and," he added with a laugh twinkle in his dark eyes, "we much brave—we want to meet Deerfoot but we looked to see he did not come; if he came, then we wouldn't be so much brave; we turn, and run like buffalo, we much afraid of Deerfoot; we no want to see him."

CHAPTER XXVI

AN UNEXPECTED INTERVIEW

Having turned his back on his pursuers, Deerfoot gave them no further attention. His purpose now was to defend Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub from the two red men in pursuit.

It will be remembered that the youthful warrior had fixed in his own mind the course taken by the others, and he hastened to a point where he was hopeful of finding the trail. But the calculation which led him thither was drawn too fine. Like the detective who spins a theory, perfect in every part and bristling with proof, he found that a slight hitch at the beginning destroyed it all. Neither the pursuers nor pursued had crossed the spot where he was so certain he would discover their footprints.

This was a disappointment to Deerfoot, who stood several minutes debating what to do. It would require considerable time to return point where he separated from the boys follow them thence, beside placing him well to the rear of the red men from whom the harm was dreaded. It was this fact which disturbed Deerfoot, but there seemed no other course open. He could easily speculate as to the routes by which to head off the warriors, but the mistake just made warned him that he had no time guesses of that character.

Clearly the only thing to do was to follow the course named, and with his usual promptitude, he moved through the wood toward the point where he was more than likely to come into collision with the larger party of Shawanoes. He turned aside from his own trail, as he invariably did under circumstances, but had not gone far when he found that which was lost.

The Shawanoe halted and looked at the ground with a grim smile, for he saw the print of the horse's hoof, the tracks made by Jack and Otto, and the lighter impressions of two pain of moccasins.

Having caught sight of the warriors not long previous, he knew they were at no great distance. They were walking at such a leisurely pace that unless it was increased, they were not likely to overtake the unconscious fugitives before they halted for the night.

The Shawanoe wheeled and hurried along the trail, with the loping, noiseless trot which could be maintained without distress from rise of morn till set of sun. He did not scrutinize the earth directly at his feet, but glanced several rods in front. He could readily detect the trail that far, and was thus enabled to keep keen watch of his surroundings, without retarding his own gait.

He occasionally flung a glance over his shoulder, but he was well satisfied that none of the larger party was after him: they had become impressed with the fact that it wouldn't pay.

A quarter of a mile off and he leaped lightly over a small stream, which crossed his path. He paused long enough to learn that the home had stopped to drink, doing so with some difficulty, for the water was so shallow that his lips must have stirred the mud on the bottom.

The boys did not halt, but one of the warriors had got down on his knees and hands, the latter spread apart like the fore legs of a camelopard, as to touch his dusky lips to the water, of which he drank his fill. All this Deerfoot noted, with only a few moments' pause, then he was off again.

But he had gone only a little way, when he observed other facts that were more disquieting. The Shawanoes had changed pace similar to his own, and beyond question were gaining upon the boys, who could not know peril. Deerfoot was convinced that the red men had hastened through fear of losing the trail in the coming darkness. It followed, therefore, that he himself must advance faster or lose the scent.

While able to follow the tracks of a horse, entirely by the sense of feeling, the progress must necessarily be too slow to be effective under circumstances like those which now confronted him.

The youth made a tremendous bound and struck a gait which rendered it unnecessary to look behind him, for no pursuer could equal his speed. He watched only the forest in front, through which he was hurrying with a velocity that raised a gale about his ears and kept him dodging and ducking his head to avoid unpleasant consequences.

All at once, he leaped sideways behind the nearest large tree, set down his rifle and bow and drew his tomahawk. He had discovered through the gathering twilight one of the Shawanoes returning over the trail. It was a fortunate accident which prevented him detecting his pursuer, since he was on the watch against that very danger, but Deerfoot was an instant quicker, and awaited him as grimly as he confronted the two warriors who followed him to the base of the hill, where one was pierced by his unerring arrow.

Deerfoot at first believed both were coming back, having been summoned thither perhaps by some signal from the larger party, but he saw there was only one. The youth could have picked him off without difficulty, but he was too chivalrous to do so, inasmuch as the red man was actually retreating instead of advancing, and had not as yet made the first move against him.

A guarded peep from his hiding-place showed the warrior approaching on a loping trot, similar to his own, his long rifle in his right band, while a glimpse was obtained of his blanket rolled and strapped like a knapsack behind his shoulders.

He held his head well forward, his restless eyes scanning the wood as it opened before him, but evidently with no thought of the danger which really menaced him. All at once, the figure of Deerfoot glided softly from behind the tree and confronted him with his tomahawk drawn back and ready to throw.

The Indian checked himself as abruptly as if an unfathomable chasm had opened at his feet, but quick as he was, Deerfoot was so close that the latter could have touched him with his extended bow.

The warrior, old enough to be the father of the other, saw that he was helpless. He was without the power to raise a finger to save himself, even though he held a loaded rifle in one hand and carried the regulation knife and tomahawk in his girdle. Had he made the first motion toward using his weapons, the upraised tomahawk would have left the grasp of Deerfoot with the swiftness of lightning, and the skull of his foe would have been cloven as though made of tissue paper.

"Let the Shawanoe obey the words of Deerfoot," said the youth, "and he shall not be harmed."

The other made no answer, but his frightened looks showed he was ready to follow any orders received from such high authority.

"He carries a blanket on his back which Deerfoot would love to have, that he may sleep upon it when the night is cold and he has no camp-fire to warm him."

The elder Shawanoe dropped his gun to the ground beside him, that he might use both bands more readily to unfasten the bundle for his master. Flinging it at his feet, he looked inquiringly up and awaited the next command.

Deerfoot did not stoop to take the article, for that would have invited a treacherous attack. He merely glanced downward and then asked, "Whither is my brother going?"

"He seeks those who sent him here; they are not far and we heard the shout of one of our warriors, which we did not understand."

"'Twas his cry when the arrow of Deerfoot pierced his heart," said the youth with flashing eye. "Deerfoot has crossed the great river and means never to visit the other shore; he has left Kentucky and Ohio, and the Shawanoes must look for his footprints on this side. They cannot find him, and he will shoot them from behind the trees and rocks. He will flee from them no more."

The red man to whom these words were addressed could not fail to understand their meaning. They gave distinct notice that the youth would strike back, whenever harm was offered him, while west of the Mississippi. He had located there for life and was prepared to defend himself against one and all of his enemies.

Beyond question, the elder Indian would have given much could he have been in Kentucky at that moment. He was watching for some chance to turn with panther-like quickness on his youthful conqueror, but the latter took care that no such opportunity was given him.

Deerfoot could not know that the group whom he left behind had resolved to withdraw from the dangerous country, and while their agreement would have been interesting and possibly gratifying news to him, yet he was not particularly concerned, since he was determined to force them sooner or later to that conclusion.

"Deerfoot took a gun that belonged to one of those who stole his blanket and broke his canoe; his blanket has been restored to him and he will now give the gun to his brother."

This statement was not understood by the other, which fact is not to be wondered at, since it was not only in violation of what may be called common sense, but the gun itself was not in sight.

It was within reach, however, and the youth had but to take a single step backward, when he grasped it with his right hand and proffered it to the other, whose very amazement caused him to take it with much awkwardness. Thus it came about that Deerfoot allowed the warrior to have two rifles, both loaded, while he stood guard over himself, with only his tomahawk in hand.

The transfer being made, the elder was at liberty to go, so soon as he answered a few questions. He knew much of Deerfoot from reputation, and, therefore, was not so dumfounded as otherwise he would have been, when informed that no harm would be done him.

"When my brother left his comrades, he took a warrior with him," said Deerfoot in his native tongue. "Where is he?"

Daring as the young Shawanoe was, he was guarded to give up the gun, until satisfied the second foe was not likely to appear on the scene. While he would have made his usual brilliant stand against two of his enemies, he would have needed all the means which he possessed to combat them.

"My brother waits my return; he sits on fallen tree and listens for my footsteps that may learn what ill has befallen our brothers nearer the great river."

"When my brother has learned and tells them what then will they do?"

"They will hasten across the great river and never come back."

Deerfoot smiled faintly, for he saw the purpose of this remark; the warrior was seeking to propitiate his conqueror. The latter might well have added that, inasmuch as he had already given him the fact, the elder was in duty bound to turn about and hasten to his waiting friend with the news; but it was too much to ask him to accept the word of an enemy, and the youth preferred that he should make the slight journey and ascertain the truth for himself.

What followed was unique and curious. Deerfoot stepped aside, just enough to allow the other to pass. The elder held a gun in each hand and stood motionless a moment, as if uncertain what to do; but his conqueror was waiting, and he, therefore, advanced three steps, enough to bring him opposite Deerfoot, while the fourth carried him beyond. It was at that juncture he caught sight of the long bow leaning against the tree where the gun had been standing. He longed to seize it, but he knew instant death would follow the attempt.

Without turning to the right or left, the released Shawanoe strode by with deliberate and dignified step. He held his own gun in his right hand, and with no evidence of what he was doing, he stealthily drew back the hammer which clasped the flint. He then noted carefully the number of paces he took.

When he had counted nearly fifty, he felt safe from the crash of the tomahawk. Dropping the strange rifle to the ground, he wheeled like a flash and sighted quickly at the spot where he last saw his conqueror, but he had vanished.

CHAPTER XXVII

A FAILURE

The task which Jack Carleton took upon himself, when he parted company with Otto Relstaub on the clearing, was of the simplest nature, and one which he was confident could be accomplished without trouble; it was to reach by a circuitous course a point directly opposite to his friend, and on a line with the horse, so that if the latter fled from one, he could be secured by the other.

The experience of the young Kentuckian averted some mistakes into which others might have fallen. One of the hardest things for a hunter to do, while tramping the forest, is to keep his bearings. There are few who have shouldered a gun that have not learned this fact, and, without a compass, landmarks, the bark of trees, or some other artificial aid, it may be set down as impossible for any one to escape bewilderment. If his wanderings are extended he will find himself traveling in a circle, and instances are known in which a person has followed his own trail for hours, without suspecting the grotesque truth.

Jack Carleton therefore took every precaution against going astray. He had in fact but one landmark, so to speak, and that was the moon, then well up in the sky. He located the luminary with such exactness, that he knew it would be directly over his right shoulder when he arrived at a point precisely opposite his friend, and, as he hoped, in a straight line with the colt between them.

"That means good luck," said he to himself, with a smile; "I always like to see the moon over my right shoulder, though it can't mean anything after all, as mother has told me many a time. She said that she and father, a few nights before he was killed by the Shawanoes, watched the new moon, which shone through the window, over his right shoulder and on my bare head. Father was in good spirits, for he believed in signs, and I think mother, though she chided him, had a sly belief in them, too; but," added the boy with a sigh, "she shudders now at the mere mention of such a thing."

While Jack was indulging in this sad reminiscence, he was carefully picking his way among the trees, making sure that he did not get the points of the compass confused. There was no call for haste, and it may be said he felt every step of the way.

"Otto is an odd fellow," he muttered, allowing his fancy to stray whither it chose, "and I hope he won't become bewildered. He is so anxious to get the colt, that he will run into trouble if there's any into which he can run. He is shrewd, brave, and somewhat stupid, and it is never certain what he will do or say. Let me see."

He stood still, and, peeping at the moon, as beat he could through the foliage overhead, studied its position in the heavens, with particular reference to his own.

"I haven't reached the right spot yet; it must be a hundred yards further."

His aim was to halt some twenty or thirty rods beyond the clearing. Then, when assured he had gone far enough, he would walk directly toward Otto, the two keeping the horse between them.

"I do so hope we will get him," muttered Jack, beginning to feel a misgiving now that the decisive moment was at hand, "for if we fail it will end the business. If he goes home without the colt, his father will beat him, and more than likely will drive him into the woods and forbid him to come back till he brings the horse with him. He is such a hard-hearted, miserly old fellow, that he will accept no excuse from Otto, and his mother doesn't seem to be much better."

After a time Jack reached the point where he found the moonlight streaming over his right shoulder. Of course, he could have secured that lucky omen at any time, but it resulted now from the systematic course he had followed, and he was sure no mistake had been made.

He had no more than formed the conclusion that everything was as it should be, when he was surprised to hear the neigh of a horse within bowshot of where he stood. As it came from the direction of the clearing, no doubt remained that it was the animal for which he was hunting.

"It looks as if it is to be my fortune after all to recover the colt," thought the pleased lad. "It will be a surprise to Otto, but I hope we shall not have to wait any longer, for we have lost a good deal of time."

He moved through the wood, stepping softly, so as not to frighten the animal, which probably had had enough of liberty to be unwilling to go back to bondage.

A brief distance was passed, when the young Kentuckian caught sight of the stray steed. In an opening, less than a tenth of an acre, where there was an abundance of grass, stood the identical colt which ran away the day before. Saddle and bridle were still in place, though even the moonlight was sufficient to show they had suffered much from the journey of the horse. The latter, evidently was suspicious that something was amiss. He was cropping the grass, when the sound of Jack's footsteps alarmed him. He stood with his head up, the grass dripping like water from his mouth, while he listened for the cause of alarm.

Jack Carleton was well aware of the difficulty that faced him when on the very threshold of success. Though he was close to the animal, he was not yet secured.

"Ah! If Deerfoot was here," sighed the boy, "then there would be no doubt of the result, for he would dart forward and catch him. If the horse wanted to run away, he would let him do it, and then the Shawanoe would chase him down, just as easily as he would me or Otto; but it is going to be hard work for me."

It was difficult to decide on the best course of procedure. The sagacious creature would not only be quick to recognize Jack, but equally quick to understand his purpose in approaching him. It was too much to expect him to submit quietly to recapture.

Jack softly plucked a handful of grass, and, stepping out from the cover of the woods began moving gently toward the colt. The latter turned his head and uttered a sniff of inquiry, at the same time showing an inclination to whirl about and gallop off. The boy stood still and, holding out the grass, deftly manipulated it so that a part dropped loosely to the ground: this insured its notice by his victim. Jack also addressed him in his most soothing tones. He called him all the pet names at his command, and, as the steed still held his ground, the youth resumed his stealthy advance.

Jack Carleton's heart throbbed with hope. The animal threw his head higher, snuffed louder, and manifestly was hesitating whether to permit a closer approach before fleeing, or whether to turn his face at once from temptation.

"A few steps more and he is mine," was the thought of Jack, who repeated the pet names with greater ardor, interspersing them with a variation of cluckings and chirpings that would have charmed a prattling baby. He increased his pace, for he was almost within reach, while the beast snorted with excitement.

All at once Jack dropped the gun in his other hand, and made a desperate plunge, meaning to grasp the forelock of the horse. It may be said that he succeeded, for he felt the coarse, cool hair as it was swept through his fingers by the flirt of the animal's head. Jack missed success, by what may be truly said to have been a hair's breadth.

"Whoa! confound you!"

This command was uttered in a very different tone from that in which he had been addressing the colt a minute before. There was nothing soothing in it, and the animal showed his contempt by whirling about, kicking up his heels and dashing into the woods.

Jack snatched his gun from the ground and bounded after him at the imminent risk of breaking his neck. He was too far from Otto and his captor to attract attention, but the noise may have reached the ears of the Indian. The angered pursuer did not coax or order the colt, for what he had done in that line was sufficient to show the effort was thrown away.

He listened: the animal was still going at a rate which showed he believed the danger was at his heels. The sound he made, while galloping over the leaves and through the bushes, grew fainter and fainter until it died out altogether.

"I suppose he will keep it up for several hours. If he faces toward the settlement, he will reach it to-morrow, but if he veers to the right or left, Otto may as well give up the job."

Jack was keenly disappointed, for he had been confident of success, and now he was forced to admit there was scarcely a hope of ever seeing the colt again.

"It's a bad go," he said, turning about and moving toward the clearing, where he had left his friend; "we'll keep up the hunt to-morrow, but if he isn't caught before sundown, I shall insist that we go home. Mother's anxious to see me," he added, in a softer voice, "but no more than I am to see her. It has been weeks since we parted, and if anything should happen to her while I am loitering by the way, I can never forgive myself."

He did not reflect that he was exposed to tenfold more harm than his parent. He reproached himself that he had tarried in Coatesville until Otto came for him. He was ready and waiting several days, during which he could have made the journey on foot, without the guidance of his friend.

However, it was too late now for regrets, and he tried to take matters philosophically.

The young Kentuckian made certain he was steadily pursuing the right course, and, when he thought he had advanced far enough, he emitted the whistle agreed upon. Of course no reply came back, for, as the reader knows, the young Teuton for whom the signal was meant was not in a situation to make suitable answer. In fact it did not reach his ears at all.

Without losing any more minutes, Jack Carleton pushed forward, until he was brought to a stand-still by catching the unmistakable glimmer of a light a short distance ahead among the trees.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE EAVESDROPPER

Naturally the first impression of Jack Carleton, on seeing the light, was that it proceeded from the fire kindled by Otto. It struck him as curious that he should do so before he could be certain the horse was captured; but, in accordance with his training, Jack took nothing for granted. A few guarded steps, and he discovered the truth; the light was much closer than he suspected, and came through a slight rent in the side of an Indian wigwam.

The young Kentuckian was astounded, for he had never dreamed of anything of the kind. He concluded he must be on the confines of an Indian village, and made a further investigation; but it did not take long to learn that the lodge stood alone in the great forest.

"I suppose some chieftain or warrior has quarreled with his people and lives by himself," was the remarkably accurate guess of the boy; "I don't know how he feels toward white folks, but I'll take a little further look and then hunt up Otto."

He could not fail to note that the lodge stood close to the clearing where he had agreed to meet his friend, and he was unable to free himself of a dread, while stealing forward for the purpose of peeping through the rent in the side of the aboriginal structure. Otto must have seen the wigwam before reaching it, though the proprietor might have been quicker in detecting the approach of a stranger.

Fully sensible of the care required, Jack advanced slowly, without noise, feeling every inch of the way. At last he was able to bend forward and peep through the slight opening, which first told him of the location of the wigwam. It required some delicate maneuvering to gain a good view of the interior, and it need not be said that the result was of the most interesting nature.

His eyes, or rather eye (inasmuch as he used only one), first rested on the dusky baby, that had managed to kick off the blanket, and was fiercely tugging at the piece of cooked venison which his dusky mother bad tossed him. He held it between his scant teeth, grasping it with his chubby hands, while his feet beat the air, occasionally catching under his chin, as though he was using hands and feet to force the meat apart. He worked his legs with such a vigor that at times he seemed in danger of making a back somersault and bumping through the side of the lodge.

Under other circumstances Jack Carleton would have laughed outright at the comical figure of the bright-eyed infant; but the sight of Otto Relstaub checked all such feeling, and deepened the alarm which came with the first sight of the wigwam.

It so happened that Jack was much closer to his friend than he was to any of the other three figures. No more than two feet separated the boys, and in peering into the lodge, the eavesdropper looked directly over the head and shoulders of Otto. The familiar peaked hat, which had not been removed, the rather long, curling hair, the round, rosy check, broad shoulders, the tip of the pug nose, the plump chin, the feet, and the arms resting idly on the drawn-up knees—all these made the young German look like an exaggerated fairy, that had dropped in on some superstitious mortals and was regaling them with tales of wonderland. But Otto was not discoursing to listeners; he was looking from one to the other, sometimes smiling at the snuffing, kicking, clawing infant, and then assuming an anxious expression, when his eyes rested on the face of the others who shared the lodge with him.

The squaw was slowly drawing in and exhaling the vapor from her pipe, with the deliberate enjoyment of an old smoker. With her elbows on her knees, she stared fixedly at Otto, who must have been annoyed by her persistency.

Wish-o-wa-tum, the Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder, occupied his throne of bison skin on the other side of the wigwam, and, having tired of sitting erect as became a monarch, was lounging on his right elbow, leaving his left hand free to manipulate his pipe, which was occasionally taken from his lips, after the cheeks were filled to overflowing with pungent vapor. Then, forming his immense mouth into a contracted circle, be ejected the smoke with his doubled tongue, sending forth ring after ring, in any direction he chose. Looking up at the opening in the top of the lodge, he started a regular procession of blue circles, twisting inward and slowly expanding as they climbed toward the fresh air, where they were suddenly caught and whirled into nothingness.

Jack had the best view of the chieftain he could wish, and fearful of being detected, drew his head back a few inches so as to be in entire darkness, and studied the ugly countenance. He observed the small, piggish eyes far apart, the big cheek bones, the disfigured nose, the enormous mouth, the slouchy, untidy dress, and even the half dozen straggling hairs that sprouted here and there over his massive chin.

He noticed the flitting glances of the black eyes, and knew that the unattractive Indian had, in some way or other, made a prisoner of Otto Relstaub, whose rifle was missing. Standing on the outside with his loaded gun in hand, the young Kentuckian could have done as he pleased with the red man, who had no suspicions of danger; but the thought of shooting him was unspeakably shocking to Jack, who could not have been persuaded to the step unless forced to do so, in order to save the life of Otto or himself.

Cruel indeed must any one be who could look on the picture of domestic happiness, the stolid father, the contented mother, and the lusty youngster, without feeling his heart stirred by that deep, inborn sympathy which makes the whole world akin.

"He isn't a Shawanoe or Miami," was the conclusion of Jack, after a careful study of the warrior's face and general appearance; "I have never seen an Osage, but have heard much of them, and I'm quite sure he is one. If that is so, he isn't as fierce as his race on the other side the Mississippi, and I think we can get Otto out of there without harm to any one. If we are going to live in this part of the world, we must keep on good terms with the Indians. Helloa! what is the old fellow going to do?"

Jack noticed that the head of the family had stopped glancing from one part of the lodge to another, and was looking steadily at Otto, as if he meditated some design against him.

And so he did. Drawing in an enormous quantity of smoke, he removed the stem from his leathern lips, contracted them into another O, and suddenly shot out a vapory ring, followed instantly by a second, third and fourth, and then by so many that they stumbled over each other's heels, as may be said. Indeed, the mouth of Wish-a-wa-tum seemed to have become a mitrailleue for the moment, that sent a continuous volley across the wigwam.

When the bombardment opened, Otto was looking thoughtfully at the ground in the middle of the lodge, so that his face was turned toward the chieftain. The latter aimed with such skill that, as he intended, the first ring passed directly over the end of Otto's pug nose, which for the instant looked as though some painter had enclosed the organ in a delicately tinted circle.

The latter was no more than in place, when it was followed by several others. The series, however, was blown into nothingness by a resounding sneeze from Otto, which started the vapor toward the opening above, that seemed to exert a greater power as the distance from the ground increased. When within a few inches of the outlet, the smoke flew apart, spun around and whisked out of sight, with the current that was borne upward from every part of the lodge.

"Donderation!" exclaimed Otto as best he could, through the strangling vapor; "what for you don't do dot? Don't you vants to kill somepodys mit your smoke—don't it? Yaw I oogh!"

Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder did not stir. Still holding his pipe suspended in his left hand, he looked at the discomfited youth and smiled.

The smile was the most prodigious on which Jack Carleton had ever looked. He saw the corners of the mouth move back on the cheeks until it seemed they must touch the ears. Perhaps the chief smiled so seldom that the few served to bring up the "general average" of those that were lacking.

Wish-o-wa-tum could have added to the distress of Otto by continuing his vapory cannonade, but he refrained, and amused himself by sending the rings once more toward the chimney.

While this little episode was going on, the squaw, with her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees, continued to stare at Otto; but she showed no disposition to smile even in the slightest degree. In her the element of mirth appeared to be totally lacking.

It is more than probable that she had not acquired the art of ejecting the circles of smoke, or she would have followed up the exhibition of her husband with a similar one, inspired thereto by the innate ugliness of her nature.

The incident described did much to dissipate the alarm of Jack Carleton for his friend. The overwhelming smile on the countenance of the chieftain made it attractive, for it was free from the disfigurement of hate.

"Yes, he is an Osage, with his wife and little one. He may not be a pleasant neighbor, but he would not dare to live away from his tribe, if he was as cruel as the Shawanoes or Hurons. Some of the settlers would shoot him and his squaw and papoose."

This theory was reasonable, but from the nature of the case it could not be complete in the assurance it brought to the mind of the young Kentuckian, inasmuch as it failed to explain several alarming facts.

In the first place, Otto, manifestly, was a prisoner in the lodge. He had no gun with which to defend himself, nor could the guarded peeping of the eavesdropper discover the weapon within the wigwam. In what manner the German had fallen into the power of the Osage was beyond conjecture, nor could Jack guess the ultimate intentions of the captor.

"I have my loaded gun," was the thought of the youth, "and I ought to be able to get Otto out of this scrape. I shall be sorry, indeed, to harm any one in the wigwam, and so long as it is possible to avoid it, I will. If the warrior receives injury it will be his own fault."

At such times, the most curious fancies often take possession of a person. Jack Carleton had convinced himself that the Indian, wigwam was the only one in the neighborhood; but he had scarcely decided what his course should be, when he began to fear he had made a mistake. It seemed unlikely that a single Osage should dwell apart from his tribe in that fashion.

"There must be other lodges near me," he thought, stepping softly back and peering around in the gloom.

It mattered not that he saw no lights from any of them, for he reasoned that they might be hidden by the intervening trees. So strong was the feeling, that he moved further off and repeated the very reconnaissance made a short time previous.

He would not have done so, had he not known that Otto was in no immediate danger from his captor. Had the latter offered him harm, the struggle would have been heard in the stillness of the night, and Jack would have rushed to the relief of his friend.

Finally, the eavesdropper became satisfied that whatever the issue of the strange situation, he had but the single family to face. Then he was distressed by the doubt as to what the squaw would do, it he carried out his scheme. It is well known that the Indian women are as brave, and frequently more cruel, toward their captives than are the warriors themselves. If the one before him became violent, Jack would be likely to find he had undertaken a task beyond his power.

His determination was to walk directly into the lodge and act as if he believed the occupants were his friends. He therefore strode forward toward the entrance, purposely kicking the leaves with his feet; and it was that noise which apprised those within of his approach.

CHAPTER XXIX

WITHIN THE WIGWAM

Jack Carleton walked to the flapping deerskin which closed the entrance to the wigwam, flung it aside, and, stooping slightly, stepped within. Looking into the face of Wish-o-wa-tum, he made a half military salute and, straightening up, called out:

"How do you do, brother?"

The etiquette of the visitor required him to advance and offer his hand, but he was afraid to do so while in doubt as to the sentiments of the chief. The young Kentuckian recalled an instance somewhat similar to the present, wherein a Huron warrior, grasping the hand of the white man who offered it, suddenly drew him forward and plunged his hunting-knife into his side.

The unexpected visit of Jack produced a sensation amounting, for the moment, almost to consternation. For the first time the squaw showed genuine surprise. Snapping the pipe from her mouth, she threw up her head with a grunt, and stared at the athletic youth. The kicking baby on the hearth appeared to understand that something unusual was going on, and held arms and legs still, while he stared, with his round black eyes, toward the figure at the other end of the lodge.

Man-not-Afraid-of-Thunder turned his head, holding his pipe in hand, and looked inquiringly at the visitor. He showed no signs of fear, but, manifestly, he was astonished. His fragmentary conversation with the other boy had given him no cause to look for such a call, though he saw at a glance that the two were friends.

Otto Relstaub beamed with delight. With an expanse of smile second only to that of which the sachem was capable, he rose partly to his feet and, looking at Jack, called out:

"Mine gracious! Jack, I didn't look for nodings of you pefore, as dot ish—"

"Hold on!" interposed the lad at the door, with a laugh and wave of the hand, "sit down and compose yourself till you can talk straighter than that."

"I dinks I does—yaw," muttered the happy fellow, willing to do anything suggested by his companion; "but come in and sot down."

While addressing Otto, Jack kept his eyes on Wish-o-wa-tum, for it may be said he was the key of the situation. If he showed hostility, trouble was sure to follow. Jack half expected to see him make a leap for his bow or rifle, or attempt to draw his tomahawk.

If he does thought the boy, "I'll raise my gun first, and he will understand what that means."

But the looks and manner of the host (if such he may be called) were neither hostile nor friendly; they were indifferent, as though the whole business possessed no interest to him. After his first surprised stare, he swung his head back to its former position and slowly smoked his pipe as before.

Jack Carleton made up his mind on the moment that his true course was to carry out his first idea that is, to act as though there was no doubt of the friendship of the Osage.

Stepping to the left, he set his gun on the ground with the muzzle leaning against the side of the lodge. No more expressive sign of comity could have been given than this simple act. He then advanced to the beefy, stolid chieftain, to whom he offered his hand, repeating the words:

"How do you do, brother?"

Wish-o-wa-tum took the fingers in his own immense palm, and gave them a moderate pressure. Though it might have been called a warm salute, it sent a shiver through the youth, who unconsciously braced himself against any sudden pull of the savage, his other hand, at the same time, vaguely seeking the handle of his knife.

But, whatever thoughts or intentions may have stirred the massive chieftain, they gave no evidence of their nature in his face. He looked up at the boy, and, as he slightly wabbled the hand within his own, said:

"How do, brudder?"

Jack then turned about and greeted Otto, who could scarcely contain himself. The movement, it will be noticed, placed the back of the former toward the chief, and he was conscious of another chill running up and down his spine; for no better opportunity could be given the Indian to strike one of those treacherous, lightning-like blows peculiar to the savage races.

"Keep your eye on him," said Jack, in an undertone, while shaking the hand of Otto, and both were talking loud and effusively.

Otto nodded his head and winked, to signify he caught on, and did not check, for a single moment, his rattling flow of talk. Jack, in the most natural manner, shifted his position to one side, so he was able to look upon every one in the wigwam without the appearance of any special object in doing so.

The great point with the callers was to secure the good-will of the savages. It may seem shrewd on their part, but any boy, no matter what his age, knows that the surest way to win the friendship of a household is to magnify the importance of the baby.

The thought occurred to Otto long before, and more than once he explored his garments in search of some present for the youngster; but he possessed nothing that would answer. His pockets were empty of anything in the shape of coin, bright medals, buttons, or playthings of any sort likely to attract the eye of the aboriginal American infant.

He might have handed his hunting-knife to him, but more than likely, in his blind striking and kicking, he would gouge out an eye or attempt to scalp himself, and then the mother would turn upon the donor in her wrath. Otto considered the project of borrowing the tomahawk of the chief and passing it over to the heir, but feared he would knock out his own brains or do something desperate, by which retribution would be visited on the head of Otto.

But Jack Carleton was more fortunate, for in the pocket of his trousers was an English shilling, worn smooth and shining with the friction to which it had been long subjected. It was just the thing to catch the eye of any baby, no matter what its nativity, and he stepped hastily forward and handed it to the one before him.

The movement interested the parents scarcely less than the child. They watched Jack closely. The little fellow snatched the bright coin in his snuffling, awkward fashion, and, when it was clutched in his fingers, made a furious shove, intending to drive it into his mouth.

"Hold on," called Jack, in alarm; "I didn't give it to you to eat; I don't believe you can digest it."

Just then the little fellow began to kick, cough, and fling himself harder than ever. The mother sprang forward with an exclamation in her native tongue, and, catching her baby in her arms, began manipulating him in the most original fashion. Standing upright in the middle of the wigwam, she inverted him, and, holding him by the heels, worked him up and down, as though he were the dasher of a chum.

"If she don't do dot a leedle harder his head vill bounce off," remarked Otto.

The shilling flew from the throat of the baby, and Jack, thinking it had done enough harm, scooped over to pick it up; but, before he could lay hands on it, the mother snatched it from the ground and shoved it into one of the capacious receptacles of her dress. Evidently she identified the coin and knew its value.

"All right," laughed Jack; "I'll be glad to have you keep it, if it will help to buy your friendship for us."

During this stirring episode, and when the boys feared the heir of the wigwam was likely to choke himself to death, the father never ceased smoking, his pipe. His piggish eyes were turned sideways, as though he thought the performance worth looking at; but, beyond that, he did not disturb himself.

The infant, after his unpleasant experience, seemed to be as well as ever, and being tumbled back on the bison skin resumed his kicking and, crowing, as though seeking to make up for lost time.

The occurrence produced an effect on Jack Carleton similar to that caused by the sight of the expansive smile of the Osage chieftain: he felt that no dangerous ill-will could exist wigwam which was the scene of the incident.

The boys resumed their seats beside each other, where the other occupants of the lodge were in sight all the time, and then spoke with freedom.

"I don't think they will offer any harm," Jack, alluding, of course, to the squaw and the warrior. "I suspect he is an Osage."

"Yaw—dot ish vot he tolds me," said Otto carefully weighing his words.

"What else did he tell you? But, first of all, let me know how you came to be his guest."

Thereupon the German related, in his own fashion, the story which long since became familiar to the reader. Jack Carleton listened with much interest, glancing from the husband to the wife and back again, with an occasional look at the baby, that had become so motionless as to show that he was asleep.

"So you didn't get anything to eat?" remarked the young Kentuckian; "when I first saw you here I thought you were after food. I am hungry, but I think the best thing we can do is to leave the lodge."

"Vy not stays till mornings?"

"It might do; but I'm a little too nervous to sleep, for there can be no certainty about them. I hunted around for other lodges, but found none, and yet there may be plenty not far off. He may have visitors, and, if they find us here, there's no telling what they will do."

"What for you leave your gun ober dere just as I does mit mine?"

"It struck me that that was the best way to show the old fellow that not only was I friendly myself, but that I took him to be a friend."

"Dot ish so; but it would be as nice as nefet vos if bofe of our guns had us."