By the time the alarmed Fred Linden had his rifle reloaded there was not a buffalo within a hundred yards of him. The one that bore his friend on his back was making as good time as the fleetest and was well toward the head of the drove. The panic began like an eddy of the sea; there was a surging of the animals toward the other side of the prairie and away they went, as I have said, with their tails and heels in the air, as if they meant to keep up their headlong flight for twenty miles, as is sometimes the case, when an immense drove become stampeded on the great plains of the west.

Whatever feelings of amusement might have been first aroused by the figure that Terry cut on the back of the terrified bull were lost in the dreadful fear of Fred that it would prove a fatal ride for his friend.

He could see him plainly for a fourth of a mile, but by that time the trampling hoofs raised a dust in the dry grass which partly obscured the herd and made it impossible to distinguish the figure of the lad clinging to the mane of his novel charger.

"He will fall off," was the exclamation of Fred, "and will be trampled to death by the others."

He recalled that the bull must have been wounded by his own shot, but that knowledge gave him concern instead of relief; for if the bull should give out, he would be trampled by those who were thundering so close at his heels.

The buffaloes did not preserve the open order which marked them when they were grazing, but crowded together, so that their backs looked like brown dusty waves, rising and falling rapidly from the motions of their bodies.

Fred quickly recovered from his astonishment. He had reloaded his gun, but when ready to fire, was afraid to do so. Too many other buffaloes interposed between him and the bull, and had he discharged his weapon, he would have been as likely to hit Terry as to wound the brute that was carrying him away with such speed.

Running to where the rifle of the boy lay, Fred picked it up, hastily reloaded it, and started after the herd. He broke into a loping trot such as an Indian shows when hurriedly following a trail. He kept his eyes on the fast receding animals, his interest being now centered on the moment when they should reach the wood on the other side of the prairie.

"It will be the death of him if they dash among the trees," he thought; "for he will be struck by some limb and have his brains dashed out."

But such a catastrophe did not take place. The fleeing animals must have known that their headlong speed could not be kept up among the trees and undergrowth; so, when those at the head of the drove were close to the edge of the wood they swerved to the left, and the others followed with the same furious swiftness with which they had sped across the open.

Fred Linden at this time was not a third of the way across the prairie, and he stopped and viewed the sight. He could distinguish the animals much better than when they were tearing straight away from him. They ran, so to speak, from under the cloud of dust that had obscured his vision, which, sweeping backward, left all in plain view.

What he saw, too, showed that the buffaloes possessed varying rates of speed. A dozen were well to the front, still crowding close together, while the rest, also in close order, were strung along at different distances. Still, they were so far from Fred that his view was any thing but satisfactory. Shading his eyes with his hand, he peered through the autumn air in the search for his friend.

"There he is!" he exclaimed, but the words were hardly out of his mouth when he saw he was mistaken. The distance was too great for him to see clearly.

"How long will this keep up?" was the question which he would have been glad to answer, for it included the fate of Terence Clark. If his steed should grow weary and fall behind the others, possibly he would give his rider a chance to leap to the ground and make off; but the likelihood of that taking place was so remote that Fred could feel no hope.



CHAPTER XXIX.

A YOUNG HUNTER'S STRATEGY.

Fred Linden walked rapidly forward until he reached the middle of the prairie, when he paused and bent his eyes on the swiftly vanishing drove of buffaloes. They were speeding at right angles to the course he had been following, and, so far as he could judge at the distance, were on the same dead run with which they started.

He was convinced that he was mistaken a brief while before, when, for a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of Terry on the back of the terrified bull. He was unable to distinguish any thing that looked like him. He might—and it was not at all improbable—be still clinging to his steed, but he was too far off and too mixed up with the others for even the keen eyes of Fred Linden to identify him.

There seemed but the one thing to do: that was to follow the drove until he learned the fate of his friend. Certain that he would find him sooner or later, Fred resorted again to his loping trot, which he could keep up for several hours without great fatigue.

But he had not gone twenty steps at this gait, when, to his astonishment and alarm, he observed three Indian warriors, each mounted on a horse, issue from the wood at the point where the buffaloes would have entered it had they not turned to the left. The red men headed their animals directly toward Fred, and advanced at a moderate gallop.

The sight was enough to make the bravest person thoughtful; for you will readily see the critical situation of the boy. It was useless to turn and run, for they would overhaul him before he could get half way to cover. He was in the middle of a grassy prairie, where there was not the slightest object which could be used as a screen in a fight with them. He glanced quickly about, but did not see a stone as large as his hand. Except so far as his weapons were concerned, he was absolutely helpless.

Never did Fred Linden display more coolness and knowledge of Indian character than he did at this time when caught at such fearful disadvantage. He knew that if he showed any timidity, the red men would attack him at once, while, if he could deceive them, as he hoped, there was a possibility that he would escape.

Two hundred yards away, the Indians drew their cantering horses down to a walk: they evidently saw there was no call for haste and they could afford to take all the time they wished. They were riding beside each other, instead of in Indian file, and being nigh enough to be observed distinctly, showed that they were dressed precisely like the Winnebagos whom he had noticed the night before around their camp-fire. This might have been, had they belonged to another totem, for there is a similarity in the dress of different tribes, but Fred had no doubt that these were Winnebagos. It began to look indeed as if there was an irruption of them into that section of the Louisiana Territory.

During those trying moments, when Fred calmly watched the approach of the dusky horsemen, he was observant of the smallest things. He recalled that they were the same in number as the party which he and Terry so narrowly missed the night before on the edge of the stream and he half suspected they were the same, though such supposition did not correspond with the theories formed and accepted at the time.

He saw the middle horse, which was darker in color than the others, slightly stumble; then the rider turned his head and said something to the warrior on his left, who made answer without taking his eyes from Fred; then the one on the right said something, his painted features relaxing into a frightful grin, the guttural words being plainly audible: all these points being noticed, as I have said, by the young hunter who had so much more important matters to engage his thoughts.

He recalled with relief that on picking up the gun of Terry he had reloaded it, so that he now had two weapons ready for use. With these he could make a brave resistance, and you may depend upon it that the last thing he thought of doing was to surrender. He might easily be shot down where he stood, but he would die fighting.

The three horsemen advanced with the same deliberate pace, their black eyes fixed upon Fred, who stood erect, looking straight at them. When they were within twenty yards, he quietly turned so as to face the other way, and waved his cap several times over his head. At the same moment he uttered a resounding whoop, replaced his cap, laid Terry's rifle at his feet and leveled his own at the amazed savages, who could not have suspected what was coming.

You understand that the purpose of Fred was to make the Winnebagos believe that he had friends on the edge of the wood behind him to whom he had signaled. The act of laying down his gun was to give the impression that he was so sure of support that he was ready to fight until it should appear.

Now, the red men might have been deceived by this to as full an extent as the youth desired, but the fact remained that, even if there were re-enforcements on the margin of the prairie, they were so far off that they could give no help if the Indians chose to assail the boy. I am inclined to think that had the Winnebagos believed that a dozen white hunters were encamped there, they would not have been restrained from carrying out their design by such fact: but when the cool defiance of the youth was added to the same, there was enough to make them pause.

They might shoot him down, wheel and dash for the woods from which they had emerged but a short time before; but they would be liable to pursuit, and, when a white borderer takes to the trail, he can be as persistent as the red man himself, though, as I have said, had they been eager to shoot the boy, they would not have been stopped by that knowledge. But they saw that he had his loaded rifle leveled at them: each Winnebago probably imagined he would be the special target. Their guns were still in their hands and no doubt the moment any one attempted to raise his weapon the white boy would fire.

The distance was so short that there could be no miss. It followed therefore that the cost of an assault upon the lad would be the death of one of the Winnebagos, and none of the three could know that he would not be the victim.

The cost was more than they were willing to pay, for it must be borne in mind that not only was the death of one of their number considered assured, but it was not at all unlikely that such a daring youngster would be able to do something with the gun at his feet before succumbing.

But it is not to be supposed that three mounted Indians would deliberately ride away from a single youth through fear alone,—that is, not until they had tried to circumvent him by strategy. And so it came to pass that within the same minute that Fred raised his rifle, the Winnebago who sat in the middle waved his hand toward him as a sign of comity. At the same time he called out: "Yenghese! Long Knife! Friend—friend—friend!"

But Fred knew too much to be deceived. He was the master of more vigorous English, and, without lowering his gun, he called out:

"Keep off or I'll fire! If you ride another step, I'll let daylight through you!"

As if to add emphasis to his words, he gently swayed his rifle from right to left, so that it covered each warrior in turn. There was an involuntary ducking of the heads, and the Indians, seeing that nothing was to be done without large risk, opened out—two riding to the right and one to the left. Thus they passed by Fred without lessening the space between him and them.

After all, this was the most trying moment to the youth, for it diverted his attention in the most exasperating manner. The three horsemen were in his field of vision, but it was hard to keep watch upon each. He suspected the maneuver was for the purpose of taking him off his guard, but it is doubtful whether such was the case, for there was something in the grim pose of the youthful hunter which warned them that it was unsafe to trifle with him.

When the horsemen were opposite each other and on a line with Fred, he suddenly wheeled with great quickness and held his piece still leveled so that he could shift it from one to the other the moment needed. On their part, the Winnebagos watched him with cat-like vigilance, keeping their heads turned until they came together a hundred feet beyond, and between him and the wood which he had just left. There they stopped, their position such that the sides of their animals were turned toward the lad, whom they continued to view with an interest that it is safe to say they had never felt in any other of his race.

It was tiresome to hold his heavy rifle leveled, but Fred stuck to it, for he knew how much depended on the next minute or two.

It looked for a time as though the Winnebagos had decided not to leave without a demonstration, but finally they moved off with their backs toward Fred, and their horses on a walk.

"How nicely I could pick one of them off," said he to himself, as the broad shoulders, with the black hair streaming over them, moved gently up and down with the motion of the animals, and ranged themselves beside each other like three dusky targets. "I could hit him or him or him" he added, shifting his aim from one to the other in turn, "and it's because they know it that they are afraid to risk a shot. If one of them had made a motion to take aim, I would have let fly, and I wouldn't have missed either. Then I would have done something with Terry's gun."

These thoughts had hardly found expression, when the middle Winnebago suddenly turned on his horse, raised his gun and discharged it at Fred Linden. The instant he did so, he and his two companions threw themselves forward on their animals and dashed off on a dead run for the wood.

Had the warrior been less hurried, it is probable he would have struck the astonished youth, who plainly heard the pinge of the bullet as it almost touched his ear. His own arms were beginning to ache because of their constrained position, but he took as careful aim as possible and fired at the savage who fired at him.

More than that, he hit him. A screeching yawp broke the stillness, the warrior half straightened up on his steed, seemed to sway, and would have fallen had not one of his companions caught his shoulder and supported him for a minute or two. The horses were brought down to a walk, and finally came to a standstill, though they halted at a point beyond rifle shot.

"I hope I finished him," muttered Fred Linden, with a snap of his eyes; "they are seeking my life, and, if I could have my way, I would tumble every one of them off his horse."

Never was the value of two rifles shown more strikingly than at this time. The moment his gun was discharged—had he possessed no other—Fred would have been helpless, and the Winnebagos would have been upon him before he could reload his piece; for that was in the days of flint-locks, when the charge had to be rammed down and the powder poured into the pan before the weapon was ready for use. It may be said, however, that under such circumstances he would not have fired.

But before the horsemen could wheel about, they would have found the youth standing at "present arms" precisely as before, and the situation unchanged, except that one of their own number had been disabled, and to that extent (which was considerable) the gain was on the side of the lad.

There could be little doubt that the stricken Winnebago was hit hard, though after some attention from his companions, he was able to sit his horse. The three warriors seemed to have lost all interest in Fred, for a few minutes later they rode off at a walk, without, so far as he could judge, once bestowing a look upon him.

It struck him as singular that after his stratagem, by which he believed he gave the impression that he had a party of friends on the margin of the wood, that the Winnebagos should guide their horses to the very point. After all, it began to look as though he was not so successful in that respect as he imagined, and that it was his own courageous demeanor that for the time had saved his life.

"I am glad they have ridden off in that direction," said the youth to himself, as he saw them carefully enter the wood, where they were lost from sight; "for if they had ridden the other way they would have bothered me in my hunt for Terry."



CHAPTER XXX.

TERRY FINISHES HIS RIDE.

That ride of Terry Clark on the back of the buffalo bull was one which he could never forget had he wished to do so, which of course he did not. The first thrill, when the beast dashed off on a dead run, and the wind began blowing by the ears of the lad, was that of pleasure. He was having an exciting ride, and, as good fortune would have it, the animal was bearing him straight along the trail toward the camp in the Ozarks.

"If the baste will show enough consideration for me," thought the lad, "to kape up his coorse for twinty miles or so, he will give me a good lift toward raichin' the folks, though sorry I am that I haven't Fred alongside or rather behind me."

The bull being on a run, his progress consisted of a series of quick jumps, which jarred the rider so much that had he not kept a good grip upon the shaggy mane, he would have been unseated. The hair of the animal was so long that he was able to make his hold secure, though he had a constant fear that he would stumble, in which case the rider was sure to take a tremendous header that was likely to break his neck.

Terry could feel the throb, as it may be called, of the engine. His position was such that his heels touched the body close to the shoulders of the bull. At that point there was an alternate swelling and sinking of the muscles, as the animal alighted on his feet and leaped away again, which Terry felt as plainly as if he had held his open hand on the shoulder. Then, too, the bull had a peculiar sidelong motion, as though some of his muscles occasionally got out of "gear," and the action of the hind legs did not "dovetail," so to speak, with that of the fore legs.

Nothing escaped the eye of Terry during those exciting minutes. He thought the head of the bull was held unusually low, but he noticed the short, thick horns, curving outward and then coming over until they ended within a few inches of each other, and he was sure that amid the dusty frontispiece of the immense area of skull bone he could see where his useless bullet had struck and glanced off; once or twice he caught a whiff of the breath of the buffalo, redolent with the not unpleasant odor of grass, and now and then he could hear his fierce snort. It seemed to Terry that the animal turned his head partly to one side as if to get a view of the strange creature on his back. Doubtless such was the fact, and, after each sight, it seemed that he bounded away with more terror than before.

Brief as was the time taken by the bull in galloping across the prairie, it allowed Terry to see every thing. As soon as he felt sure of retaining his seat, he glanced at the other animals, all of which were galloping in the same direction as the bull. Some of them were so fleet that they passed him, but he retained his place near the middle of the herd.

The buffalo, or properly the bison, is a stupid animal, but a peculiar fact about the small drove amid which Terry Clark was riding was that a number noticed him and in their way tried to push him off. They would dash up beside the bull with head lowered, and rub their horns against him in the effort to reach the rider and unseat him.

"The only way in which ye can do that," said Terry, when he saw what they were trying to do, "is to climb up and take a saat behind me. Thin, if ye'll lock yer arms about me nick ye may persuade me to stip down, but ye can't do much while on the ground."

The buffaloes were too dull of intellect to realize their helplessness in this respect, and they continued crowding close to the bull until they must have caused him some discomfort. This crowding was of such a marked character that, as you will remember, it was noticed by Fred Linden as far off as he stood.

Once or twice the rider had one of his feet slightly jammed, but he was able to lift it out of danger without imperiling his position. The dust caused by the hoofs of the animals did not rise until his steed had passed beyond, so that he suffered nothing therefrom and every thing in front was in plain view. The speed of the beast, however, caused some inconvenience, for the wind made him blink, and it was only by half closing his eyes that he could peer out between the lids and see clearly.

Before the other side of the prairie was reached, Terry Clark began asking himself the natural and important question,—How is this to end?

The same theories that I have mentioned as occurring to Fred Linden passed through his brain also. If the bull should dash among the trees at that headlong pace, the rider could not retain his place for more than a minute or two; if he was wounded enough to cause him to give out and fall to the ground, he would be trampled upon by those behind and Terry of course would share his fate.

Brief as was the time given for thought, the youth considered a half dozen plans. He glanced over his shoulder and was alarmed to see how many animals were in the rear of him. He asked himself whether he could not slip backward, grasp the swinging tail, and dropping to the ground, keep his feet while he held fast to the caudal appendage, and pulling the other way, act as a brake upon the progress of the animal until all the others had passed on. Then he would "release brakes," and allow the bull to continue his career as suited himself.

But he was compelled to admit that the plan was not feasible. The bull was going at such a pace that the rider would be sure to lose his balance the moment he struck the ground, and, though he might still hold fast to the tail and retard the progress of the beast, he was sure of getting in the way of his heels.

"If his tail was a little longer," reflected Terry, "I would try the same, but I'm afeard I would git mixed up with his hind hoofs and things wouldn't be agraaable."

So that plan was abandoned.

"If he goes in among the trees, I'll lean forward on me face until he knocks out his brains—that is, if he has any—whin I'll dismount."

That was all well enough if the bull should happen to follow the programme, but the prospect of his doing so was too remote to afford much comfort to the youth.

"I guess I'll kaap erict like a gintleman," he concluded, "and as soon as a chance comes for me to jump off, I'll go."

Terry had no thought but that the buffaloes would dash among the trees and continue their flight in the same headlong fashion, as long as they could; but, to his amazement, the head of the drove suddenly swerved to the left and the bull followed.

"Be the powers, but this will never do," was his conclusion; "this perarie may raach all the way to the Gulf of Mexico, and the bull doesn't act as if he meant to stop before he raaches there; I'm goin' to make other arrangements."

He kept his seat until the drove had gone several hundred yards with unabated speed. So far as he could judge, the bull was holding his own with the rest: whatever wound he had received was of no account, so far as its immediate effect was seen. The others continued crowding up as before, but Terry did not mind them. He yelled and shook his head in the hope of frightening them off so as to give him the room he wished in order to make his venture, but they did not mind him. The odd crackling of their hoofs, the rattling of their horns as they struck together, and their occasional bellowing, made a din amid which no shout that he could raise would gain any consideration whatever.

"There's one thing sartin," said Terry, compressing his lips and showing by his action that he had made up his mind to end the business one way or the other. "I'm tired of this crowd, and I ain't goin' to spind any more time with it."

Between him and the wood were seven or eight buffaloes, crowding close in their idiotic fashion, as though to push off the rider. Terry recalled the day, early in spring, when he ran rapidly across the creek near his home, by stepping upon the surging masses of ice, one after the other, and leaping off again before they had time to respond to his weight. He resolved to try something of the kind.

Holding fast to the wiry mane with his hands, he drew his feet up under him, balanced himself a moment, then straightened up, and, turning quickly, stepped upon the back of the bull that was immediately alongside. Before that creature could know what had been done, the pressure was removed and the weight of the lad was borne by a cow which was his next neighbor.

Terry Clark ran as nimbly as a monkey across the backs of the intervening buffaloes, until his foot rested on the one nearest the wood. A slight slip at the moment of stepping upon his back disconcerted him so that he could not recover himself. His intention was to land on the ground with his face in the same direction he was going. Then, even if he could not keep his feet, he could run with such speed that his fall would not hurt him; but unfortunately as he struck the ground he faced the other way, and before he could check himself, he went over backward with such force that he was knocked senseless.

After all, the fall may be considered a fortunate one, for he was not seriously hurt and soon recovered himself. He had received a severe shock, but in a short time he sat up and stared about him. Recalling what had taken place, he looked in the direction of the herd of buffaloes. None of them was in sight, but a dark heap a short distance away showed where the bull on which he had ridden had given out and fallen to the ground. He was wounded more seriously than at first seemed to be the case. Had Terry stayed on his back a few brief minutes longer, he would have gone down with him and been trampled to death by the hoofs of those in the rear.

"I think I'm all here, as me cousin used to remark after he had enj'yed himself at Donnybrook Fair," said Terry, rising carefully to his feet, swinging his arms and kicking out his legs. He had been violently jarred, and he was alarmed by a dizziness that caused him to sit down again. But he recovered quickly, and soon was as well as ever. He turned to the left and passed among the trees, where, despite the coolness of the day, he felt the relief of the shade thus afforded him.

"I s'pose Fred will be jealous whin he finds out what a foine ride I have had," he added, his old sense of humor coming back; "but all he has to do is to catch a buffalo bull and git on his back: but I don't think he'll forgit the same right away."

Looking over the prairie, he saw the figure of his friend walking in almost a direct line toward him, though he was so far off that he was not distinctly visible, partly because of the dust which still lingered in the air.

Fred's encounter with the Winnebago horsemen had taken place and ended while Terry lay senseless on the ground, so that the latter had no suspicion of the exciting occurrence.

Terry ought to have walked out on the plain, swung his hat and cheered his friend; but that would have been contrary to his nature. He kept out of sight among the trees, until Fred was quite close, when he broke into vigorous whistling.

Fred heard the familiar sound, stopped short, looked about him and then burst into laughter as he saw his comrade. The next moment they ran together, shook hands and mutually congratulated each other, as you will admit they had full warrant in doing.



CHAPTER XXXI.

THE DEVIL'S PUNCH BOWL.

It was a thrilling story which Terry Clark had to tell about his ride on the back of the buffalo, but, after all, it was not so stirring as the experience which befell Fred Linden, and the Irish lad declared that it surpassed his own in every respect.

"Thim Winnebagos are gittin' altogether too plintiful," said he; "whin they come on horseback as will as on foot, there must be more than we can take care of, though you managed the three as well as I could have done the same mesilf. And so ye hit one of 'em whin ye touched off yer gun, did ye?"

"There is no doubt of it, though I am sorry to say that it did not end his career right away."

"It'll sarve him the good turn of givin' him time to think what a maan spalpeen he is any way, and that's a good deal. And so ye say they was mounted on horseback: what has become of thim?"

"They rode in among the trees over yonder, near where we kindled the fire and cooked the buffalo steak."

Terry walked out to the edge of the prairie, and shading his eyes, peered in that direction.

"I can see nuthin' of thim; they must have found out that ye hadn't any frinds there after all the fuss ye made, and it may be they will come back to sittle with ye."

"If I alone could attend to them, do you think we together have any thing to fear?"

"Of course not, if it's only thim three, but we have seen so many of the spalpeens that they won't be loikely to foind much trouble in scarin' up a few hundred more and makin' it uncomfortable for us."

"Well," replied Fred, with a sigh, "I am so relieved and thankful to know how well we got through it all, that I am hopeful we shall have no great trouble during the rest of the way. We ought to be able to reach the camp by to-morrow night if we don't have any interruption."

The young friends surely had good reason to feel grateful for their deliverance from the perils of the morning, and with hopeful hearts they walked along the margin of the wood until they came to the point where the trail turned to the left. Over this they started at a brisk pace, Fred slightly in advance of his companion, for the path was not broad enough for them to walk any other way with freedom.

"Terry," said the elder, "do you think it possible that the three Winnebagos with whom I had the trouble could be the three that we met last night, when we were about to cross the stream?"

"Niver," was the emphatic reply; "how could they have got around so far in front? It was a good many miles the ither way that we saw the same!"

"I have thought of that, but, you know, we spent several hours in sleep, during which they might have turned back."

"But where could they have got their horses?"

"They may have had them within easy reach?"

"It couldn't be."

"I guess you are right; we hadn't a very good view of them last night, though the moon shone on them when they were wading the stream and I had a fancy that one of them looked like the fellow I hit when I fired."

"All a fancy," insisted Terry.

"Well, there's no use of guessing, for any way it must be only a guess; but where do you suppose Deerfoot is?"

"I've been thinkin' of the fellow and it saams to me that it's time he showed up."

"I wonder whether he could have passed us in the night."

"That couldn't be, for he meant to stay near the camp-fire where we lift him till he found out what the spalpeens were goin' to do, and he couldn't have got that chance till mornin'."

"Unless they made a start last night."

"Which the same they didn't do."

The boys were more in want of water than food, and fortunately they had not gone far when they struck another stream, narrow enough for them to leap across, and which afforded them a draught with which to quench their thirst.

"Now," said Fred, "since we have had such a good breakfast, we will think of nothing more to eat until night."

"I don't know about not thinkin' of the same," said Terry doubtfully, "but I am with ye in agraain' that we won't go out of the path to hunt any of the same onless—that is, onless we should think what I've brought along isn't aqual to our appetites."

"We must have passed considerably more than half the distance between home and the camp in the mountains," added the elder, some minutes later; "so, if all goes well, we ought to be with our friends some time to-morrow afternoon."

"I'm of the opinion," remarked the sagacious Terry, "that Deerfut sint us on ahead last night so as to git us out uv the way; thim pritty legs of his can travel so fast that he wanted a chance to stritch the same without waitin' fur us."

"More than likely you are right; whenever he thinks it necessary, he will branch out ahead of the Winnebagos and overhaul us; so even though we see nothing of him, we ought not to feel much concern."

"How about the wither, me lad?"

Fred had noticed since resuming their journey, that the sky, which was clear and sunshiny in the morning, had become overcast. The sun was no longer visible, and a chilliness in the air warned them that the fine weather could not last much longer. They had not only been favored in this respect, but for several days before leaving home equally charming skies had spanned them. And so, in accordance with the laws of our changeable climate, a disagreeable turn was to be expected.

"I was hopeful that it would keep off until we reached camp," said Fred, looking up through the tree tops at the darkening sky; "but that is too much, and we must take it as it comes."

"Push on as fast as ye choose."

Taking his friend at his word, Fred broke into a slow, easy trot, not much more rapid than an ordinary walking gait, but one which they could keep up a long time, where the ground was not too rough. Terry of course did the same, and they covered fully two miles in that manner, when they slackened their pace before an extensive rise of the ground. But for that, they would have gone much further at the same speed.

Some fifteen minutes were spent in clambering up the stony incline, when they descended into a broad valley, the path still rough and difficult of passage. They recognized a dull but increasing roar as made by a rapid torrent, and ere long stopped on the edge of a stream fifty feet wide, which dashed and foamed over the rocks, breaking into eddies, and agitated pools, falling in foamy cataracts and splashing forward again with a rollicking freedom that formed one of the prettiest and most romantic sights on which they had ever looked.

Directly at their feet was a curious formation. By some means at a remote day, a number of hard stones had been flung downward and given a spinning motion, which, acting on the softer sandstone beneath, had begun hollowing it out, as if by the chisel of an engraver. This strange operation had gone on for years, until a bowl a dozen feet across and half as deep had been formed. It was almost mathematically round, very smooth and with a tapering shape to the bottom that made the resemblance to an enormous punch bowl strikingly accurate.

This formation (which in accordance with the taste prevailing in all parts of our country, should be christened the "Devil's Punch Bowl"), was full of limpid water, fed by a slight overflow from above and overrunning and flowing calmly over the lower rim. In the bottom lay three stones, looking like cannon balls. These were the tools with which the stream had carved the Devil's Punch Bowl. Having done their work, they were resting in the bottom, where they had lain for a period that could not be guessed.

Out beyond, a thin sheet of the water hung like a transparent curtain over the edge of the rocks. It was so smooth and unruffled that it seemed stationary, like a film of glass, but, after striking the stones below, it broke into foam, whirlpools and eddies, which helped to form as lovely and picturesque a scene as the most devoted lover of nature could long to see.

The picture was so pretty indeed that the boys stood for several minutes lost in admiration. They had never viewed any thing of the kind, and it was something that would always be a pleasant memory to them.

But, great as was their admiration, there was a startling question that came to them: how was this interesting stream to be crossed?

In front and up and down the bank, the eyes searched in vain for a ford. It was idle to think of ferrying themselves over, while the cascades, pools, eddies and general "upsetting" of a broad deep stream, made its passage as perilous as that of the rapids nearer home in which the two had come so near losing their lives.

"There is no possible way by which we can reach the other side," said Fred, after they had walked a few rods up and down the stream.

"I don't obsarve any way mesilf," was the response of Terry.

"But there must be, for how could father and the rest have crossed?"

"They may have put up a bridge."

"But where is the bridge? There are no signs of any thing of the kind," said the bewildered Fred; "they couldn't have made a bridge without leaving it behind."

"The high water has swipt it away."

Fred stood surveying the stream and the banks, for several minutes, during which he once more walked back and forth, but he was right when he said that the place had never been spanned by even the simplest structure, for it could not have been done without leaving some traces behind.

This being the case, the mystery was greater than ever; for it was certain that at that hour their friends were many miles distant on the other side.

"This is a little ahead of any thing I ever heard tell of," remarked Fred, taking off his cap and scratching his head, after the fashion of Terry when he was puzzled.

"It couldn't be," ventured the latter, who also had his cap in his hand and was stirring up his flaxen locks, "that they carried a bridge along with 'em."

"Impossible!"

"That's what I thought, as me sicond cousin remarked whin they told him his uncle carried his shillaleh a half mile and passed two persons without beltin' 'em over the head."

"There's something about this which I can not understand."

Terry turned and looked at him in his quizzical way and solemnly extended his hand. Fred shook it as he wished, though he was far from feeling in a sportive mood.

"They must have crossed," he added, replacing his cap with some violence, compressing his lips and shaking his head in a determined way; "do you walk up the bank, while I make a search in the other direction; we must find the explanation."

The proposition was acted upon, Terry clambering carefully along the slippery bank and over the rocks, until he was fully a hundred yards from his friend, who busied himself in doing the same thing in the opposite direction.

All at once the Irish lad shouted. Looking up to him, Fred saw that he was beckoning him to approach.

"I knew there must be something of the kind," thought Fred, who after much labor placed himself beside his friend.

To his disappointment, Terry had paused before the worst part of the series of cascades. It was at the broadest portion of the stream, where the falls, whirlpools, eddies and deep water would have turned back the most skillful swimmer.

"What do you mean?" asked the astonished Fred.

"I thought I'd show you the place where they didn't cross," was his reply, and then he broke into the merriest laughter, as well he might, for he had solved the mystery.



CHAPTER XXXII.

THE TERROR IN THE AIR.

"Do obsarve where the trail comes down to that big bowl?" asked Terry, pointing to the huge, circular cavity below them.

"Of course."

"Well, that's a mistake; that isn't the right trail."

Fred turned about, and jumped and ran back to the Devil's Punch Bowl, at a rate that threatened his neck. Stooping over, he carefully examined the path. He saw that his companion was right; the trail which they had followed to the edge of the stream was one that had been worn by animals in coming to and going from the Punch Bowl. You will admit that no better punch in the wide world could be furnished the dumb beasts than that which was thus freely given to them.

As if to confirm that which did not need confirming, a large buck at that moment appeared in the path, within a hundred feet of where Fred had straightened up, after examining the trail. He threw up his head on catching sight of the young hunter, gave one quick, inquiring stare and then whirled about and was off like a flash.

Fred Linden could have brought him down at the moment he wheeled had he chosen to do so, but he recalled his own proposition to Terry some time before, about firing such a shot. Indeed, since they had some of the cooked buffalo steak left, there was no call to use any more ammunition for game.

Terry Clark came laughing down the rocks, looking upon the whole business as one of the funniest of incidents, but to Fred it was any thing but a laughing matter. Time was becoming of the utmost value, and this divergence from the trail meant delay—a delay, too, whose length could not be guessed. If they had turned aside several miles back, it was more than likely that they would lose all the advantage gained by the laborious travel of the night before.

"How could we have made such a blunder?" asked Fred, his eyes wandering back over the path, as though searching for an explanation of the mistake; "I suppose at the point where the trails cross the direction isn't changed much and this is more distinct than the other. Terry, I can't see any thing about this to laugh at."

"I don't obsarve much of the same mesilf," said the other, whose face nevertheless was on abroad grin; "I wasn't laughing at yersilf, or the mistake we made."

"What was it then that amused you so much?"

"I was thinkin' how funny it looked to see the deer and bears and buffaloes and foxes and panthers all standing round that big bowl and winkin' at each ither while they drank their health."

"Terry, there's going to be trouble because of this blunder."

"What do ye signify be the same?"

"I believe that all the advantage we gained by traveling so hard last night is lost. When we follow this trail back until it reaches the main one, more than likely we shall meet the Winnebagos at that point, if they will not actually be between us and the camp in the Ozarks."

"I'm afeard it's not all a falsehood that ye are telling me," said Terry, with an expression in which there was nothing like a jest.

"Let's be off then."

At this juncture the Irish lad made a proposition which his companion accepted, for he thought it promised them much saving in time and travel.

It was quite certain that the false trail followed pretty much the same direction as the true one: at any rate there could be no doubt that it crossed the stream which had stopped them, so instead of picking their way back for several miles, they decided to keep along the edge of the water itself until they struck the path.

To make sure of avoiding another blunder, one should have gone up and the other down stream, for manifestly they could not be certain they were above or below the true path; but each felt too strong a misgiving about such a course. Their surroundings required mutual support.

Beside this, they were convinced that the trail which they wished to recover lay above instead of below, so that, when making their way they were not held back by any doubt, though each could not fail to see that it was only a piece of guess-work.

Fortunately for their peace of mind, they were right, and the plan saved them much time and travel. They had not gone very far, when they came upon the path, marked so distinctly that there could be no possible mistake.

The width of the stream was about the same as below. The water was smooth, deep, clear and sluggish. The bank sloped gently down from each side and on the other shore were plainly seen the prints of the hoofs where the animals had left the water. It was so deep that whoever went over there had done so by floating or swimming.

The crossing was so far above the point where the cascades began, that nothing was to be feared from them. The clumsiest raft could be ferried over by a child before it would drift into danger, while in case of swimming, the peril was still less.

"If it wasn't so chilly," said Fred, "I would propose that we swim the stream."

Terry shivered and shook his head.

"We must go over on a raft; it is not only cowld, but is gittin' cowlder."

"There's a storm brewing; it looks as black as ink off yonder."

At this moment the boys made a discovery which both pleased and alarmed them. Such a float as they needed was at their call. There lay a half dozen logs and trees fastened together by several withes, and with enough buoyancy to bear them to the other side. Even the pole to be used in propulsion lay upon the heavy timbers that were pulled just far enough against the bank to prevent them floating off with the current.

While it was pleasant to know that they would not have to go through the labor of constructing any thing of the kind, yet there was a cause for fear in the presence of the structure which led them to hesitate several minutes before using it.

It proved that some one had crossed from the other side upon it, while the withes were so white and fresh at the angles, where they were twisted open, as to show that the raft had been made but a short time.

The natural question was as to who could have been coming from the other way.

"I know," said Terry, compressing his lips and shaking his head.

"Who?"

"Winnebagos; they're so plintiful that it couldn't have been any one ilse, for they wouldn't have had a chance."

"I suppose you are right," remarked Fred thoughtfully, "for they do seem to be almost everywhere, though I can't understand why they should be coming this way."

"Suppose there was but one of the spalpeens, and he'd been out on a scout, and was on his way back to the rist of the spalpeens with the news, would it be onraisonable to think he would take a little pains to kaap his leggins and moccasins from gittin' damp enough to give him cowld?"

"Well, I can think of no better reason than that, and am willing to believe it is correct, but don't you see, Terry, that all this goes to prove that we have lost a dangerous amount of time? We ought to have been many miles further on the road than we are."

"The buffalo bull had a good deal to do with our impolite tarryin', and as he is slaapin' with his four mithers, I maan his forefathers, let him rist in pace."

The boys did not allow their words to delay their hands. The raft was shoved clear, and the two took their positions upon it, Fred holding the pole, while his companion looked after the guns. They were astonished to find, directly after leaving land, that the pole, which was nearly twenty feet in length, would not reach bottom.

This compelled them to use it as a paddle. The progress was slow, but the distance was so slight that it did not take them long to reach the other bank, where they set the structure adrift, so that it could not be used by any one else.

Looking directly up stream, where the sky was in plain sight, its blackness startled even the boys, who were used to seeing the most violent changes of temperature. The hue was not of the dark blue which often gives warning of the coming tempest, but there was a greenish tinge to the blackness that would have awed any one.

While they looked, a zigzag ribbon of flame fluttered across the darkened portion, accompanied by a crash that seemed to shiver the earth. Fred Linden, who happened to be staring straight at the fiery burst, saw the upper part of a large cypress that leaned over the water, leap from the trunk as though it had been sawn short off and flung into the water.

It was all ablaze, and, falling upright into the current, kept its equilibrium, that is, it did not fall to any side, but swept slowly downward as upright as when on the tree, and suggested that some giant as big as the Statue of Liberty was walking beneath, with an enormous torch held above his head to light his path.

"Did ye iver see the like?" asked Terry.

"No; it is wonderful."



Although it was about mid-day, the heavens were so overcast that the gloom was like night itself. At the same time the darkness had a ghastly tinge which made the faces of the boys, when they looked at each other, livid and unearthly.

The scene was so impressive that they stood motionless, watching the flaming tree and the inky heavens beyond. Suddenly in the sky they saw a figure that resembled a vast balloon slightly inclined to one side, and spinning on its axis with inconceivable swiftness.

At the bottom the snout-like appendage wavered off to one side as though the amazing velocity of the upper part was twisting it loose. A similar formation appeared a few minutes after a short distance behind.

And now began the most extraordinary exhibition of all. Imagine two whirling balloons, a hundred feet in height, and so black that they stood out from the surrounding gloom, showing like pitch against the dimly lit sky behind. They began a witches' waltz in the firmament, sometimes leaning far backward, then dancing forward, as if saluting each other, then "balancing," then dancing up and down, then so far away from each other that one would pass out of the field of vision, soon to reappear, however. At times they seemed as if about to rush into each other's arms, and then they coquetted away again and resumed the weird dance in the skies.

You understand that I am trying to describe one of those terrible visitations of the west known as a cyclone. Little was heard of them a century ago, and the balloon to which I have compared the form of the ghostly dancers, was unknown to the lads, who watched the exhibition with an interest that was not turned into terror, as it would have been to-day, by the knowledge of the awful power for death and destruction that lies within that concentration of electricity in its most fateful form.

It seemed a long time that this strange scene lasted, though it could not have been many seconds. Suddenly, while the balloon-like forms were saluting each other, they rushed together. There was no shock perceivable when they met, but there were vivid flashes from within the murky folds, as the heat lightning sometimes plays among the clouds at the close of a warm day.

Having met, the forms engaged in a wrestling bout. Round and round they spun with the same bewildering swiftness, leaning far to one side, as though about to fall, and all the time whirling with such speed on the one spiral leg that it seemed unable to keep pace with the bulkier part above.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

FRED LINDEN AWAKENS TO AN ALARMING FACT.

The approach of the cyclone was attended by an appalling roar, and a mass of branches and trees flying through the air, which warned the boys of their danger.

"Terry, it won't do to stay here," shouted Fred, casting about for some place of refuge; "where shall we go?"

Quite close to the stream which they had just crossed was an enormous rock. Its irregular surface, a dozen feet in extent each way, must have reached far down in the ground, so that nothing could have been more immovable. It was not the refuge that the boys would have taken, had they been given time to hunt for one, but surely they could not have found a better.

A couple of leaps took Terry to the place, and, as he threw himself on his face, Fred was directly behind him. As they lay, the shelving rock was less than two feet above their heads. Though they could hear, they could not see what was coming. They could look to the right and left, but only for a few seconds in front.

Using their eyes as best they could, they saw the air filled with leaves, twigs, branches, huge limbs and trunks, which spun forward and over and over, like so many feathers in a tornado.

The first shock that came to the boys crouching behind the rock was a dead thump near their heads. An uprooted tree had been hurled from some point above, like an enormous spear, and, striking the rock at a slant, slid over the rough surface like the finger of a player over the face of a tambourine and out beyond, hunting for some spot where it could penetrate. It found it on the ground, but it was instantly wrenched loose by the resistless power that had first thrown it forward, and went end over end into the general wreck and ruin beyond.

The next sight which startled the boys was on their left, directly over the stream. The air was filled apparently with snow, as if a violent squall had suddenly sprung up. It was accompanied by a hissing noise, which mingled with the fearful roar that had not stopped and was like that of the stormy Atlantic beating upon the rock-bound coast.

Striking the stream, the cyclone whirled most of the water from its bed, scattered the mist and foam among the trees, and saturated the boys where they lay. The huge torch was quenched as suddenly as it was lighted.

The most terrifying moment to Fred and Terry was when they felt the rock in front of them move. It was turned several inches to one side, and for one frightful moment, they believed that that too would be sent skimming through the air, or whirled over upon them. But there was no other refuge to which they could fly; had they attempted to rise to their feet, they would have been snatched up and dashed to death. So they flattened themselves as much as they could on their faces, and the terrific outburst could not reach them.

Such an elemental fury can not last long. Having torn up the ponderous trees, overturned rocks, and cleaned out the stream, the cyclone seemed to mount upward and leave the earth entirely, probably to descend some miles away and continue its work of destruction.

Fred lay still several minutes after it had passed, and then turned to look at his companion. He had unrolled the package and taken therefrom the cooked buffalo steak, which had been so roughly handled during his ride on the bull.

"Well, well," said the astonished Fred, "I believe you are the only person in the world who could eat his dinner in the middle of such a storm as this."

"I was thinkin', bein' as we are in so much of a hurry, that I would save some toime by dinin' without delay, though ye do me an injoostice by sayin' I'm through the same; I'm jist about to begin and I'll be plaised to have yer company."

Terry may not have had much sentiment, but he was sensible. Fred sat up, his head just rising above the rock, and, for a few minutes, they gave their attention to their meal. There was enough for a fair lunch, but no more. A gentle wind blew against them, being the remnant left by the cyclone, and while they ate, you need not be told they used their eyes.

The sight was a striking one: the trees lay across each other, many with their prong-like roots pointing toward the sky, limbs and trunks having been tossed about in the most bewildering confusion. The water that had been lifted from the creek rendered not only their clothing wet, but every thing around them was saturated. Walking to the side of the stream, they looked down at the sloping banks, wet and muddy, but with little water except in the bottom. The current, however, was pouring so swiftly from above that this was rapidly filling up, and before long would reach its former level.

Now that the cyclone had passed, the sky rapidly cleared. There was a chilliness in the air, and the sun did not show itself.

The boys took but a short time to view the destruction, great as it was, when they faced about in the direction of the camp which was their destination from the first. It looked as though they were finally separated from the trail, for since it was so covered by fallen trees and limbs, not the slightest trace of it was seen. They were filled with dismay, and indeed would have been at their wits' end had not the cyclone confined its fury to exceedingly narrow limits. All its prodigious force was spent in and directly along the stream. Twenty yards away, the forest was undisturbed, so that the elemental scythe had made a clean swath as it sped along.

"Hurrah!" called out Terry, "here's the path; I follyed a straight line as I could from the water here, so I'm sure I couldn't coom out very far from the right place."

Fred hurried over the ruins to his side, and a glance at the ground showed that his friend was right: there was the trail at their feet.

"Now," said Terry, recovering his spirits, "if we had only knowed that that storm was coomin', we could have fastened our guns to our backs and swum across, without waitin' to build the raft, and saved all the time that we lost."

"But we would have been wetted all the same, had we done so."

"And gained that much time; do ye know," added Terry, in a half frightened voice, "what I obsarved?"

"I suppose you saw what I did,—the air full of water, trees, limbs, stones and lightning."

"While we were peepin' over the edge of the rock, ye moind that the wind cut our faces so we had to lower 'em to keep our heads flyin' off where we couldn't find 'em agin. It was yersilf that stuck yer nose in the ground, but I took a paap off beyanst the creek and I saan one of the Winnebagos."

"Can it be possible! what was he doin'?"

"Turnin' summersets at the rate of twinty to the second and about a dozen faat above the ground; I had only the one glimpse of him, but whin I obsarved him it looked to me as if his head and one leg wint off in different directions; I s'pose he's lookin' for the same."

Fred Linden could hardly believe that Terry had seen one of their enemies, though, as you can well understand, from what cyclones have done in recent years, it was not at all impossible. The youth insisted so strongly on the first part of his statement, that Fred decided that at the time the storm burst, one at least of their foes was on the bank behind them.

All this confirmed the belief he had expressed that they had lost invaluable time by wandering from the trail, and that they would have hard work to keep far enough in advance to reach the camp before the Winnebagos. The proof that they had received too of some of the Winnebagos being in front complicated the situation and added to the mental discomfort of both.

The sky which, as you will remember, had become overcast sometime before the bursting of the cyclone, continued to clear, and to the surprise of the young hunters, about the middle of the afternoon the sun showed itself. The chilliness, however, remained, though the two walked so briskly that they could have well stood a still lower temperature.

Fortunately for them (though it also operated in favor of their enemies) the trail was traveled without difficulty. The ground was uneven, sometimes up and sometimes down, but it was not hard for the feet and they made good progress. The distance they had to go was too great for them to hope to reach the end of the journey before the morrow, even if they traveled most of the night. They had already proven their pluck and resolution, and you may be sure, now that they were on the right path, that they did not throw away any minutes.

They had eaten the extra buffalo steak sooner than was intended, but they could afford to wait until the morrow before partaking of any more food.

The afternoon was far along and they were pushing forward in their usual vigor, talking in a hopeful strain now and then, when both were startled by the report of a rifle. It did not sound in front nor to the rear, but only a moderate distance to the left. The boys stopped and looked in each other's face.

"Anither of the spalpeens," whispered Terry; "now there ought to be a gun fired on tother side of us and one in front and one behind us."

"They may be there, all the same," replied Fred, staring in the direction whence came the report, as though he expected the appearance of the one who had caused it. They looked and listened for several minutes, but saw and heard nothing more, and resumed their hurried pace, frequently glancing behind, for they were in that distrustful state of mind which comes to one who has a strong suspicion that an enemy is trying to steal behind him unawares. The actual presence of such an enemy is no more trying than the suspense itself.

The shot might have been innocent—that is, fired by some wandering white man or Indian who had not the remotest thought that any other person was within hearing. Probably such was the fact, though there was enough uncertainty about it to prevent the theory affording the youth the comfort it otherwise would have done.

The lads, as you may well believe, did not stop to look into the matter, but pressed on at a gait which they were confident would prevent any of their enemies overtaking them, unless they broke into their loping trot, which was hardly likely.

Somehow or other, Terry seemed to be thinking more about the three Winnebago horsemen with whom Fred Linden had had his encounter than he did about his own experience.

"How thim spalpeens could be ridin', whin all the rist are afoot, is somethin' that puzzles me," said he, after they had walked some distance further; "can't ye give some explanation that will relaave me mind, Fred?"

"I can certainly know no more about it than you do."

"Didn't ye obsarve them with particularity?"

"I can't say that I did; they were rather small, tough-looking; two were bay in color, while one was black: I noticed the black one more than the others, because the Indian that I hit was riding on him; I remember that he had a star in his forehead."

"Who? The Winnebago?"

"You know well enough that I meant the horse——"

Fred Linden stopped short, and turned his white, scared face upon his friend. He had just awakened to an astounding fact.

"What's the matter, Fred? Are ye ill?"

"My gracious! why didn't I think of that before? Those three horses belong to father, Mr. Hardin and Mr. Bowlby."

"Are ye sure of the same?"

"Why, of course; I can't understand why I did not notice it the moment I saw them!"



CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE CANOE.

It certainly was remarkable that when Fred Linden was watching the three Winnebagos so closely, and when, as I have said, he noticed more than one trifling matter, that he failed to recognize the animals they were riding. All three were familiar to him, and the one he had spoken of as being darker in color than the others, and as having a star in his forehead, was the identical animal owned by his father. Fred, himself, had ridden him more than once.

It should be said, however, that they were the pack-horses, which even when put to their best paces, could not make good speed. Nevertheless, they were of great value to the hunters.

The first conviction of the lad on awaking to the alarming fact, was that his father and the other two men had been killed by the Winnebagos. The thought overcame him so that he leaned against the nearest tree and was on the point of fainting.

"They are all dead, Terry—I know it—we may as well give up, and try to reach home."

Terry was agitated, but not so much so as his friend.

"Why, my dear boy, it's not so bad as that," he said feelingly; "do ye not moind that whin the gintlemen go to trappin' and huntin' they turn the horses loose to graze? The spalpeens have coom along and run off with the same."

"Do you think so?" asked Fred, looking up yearningly for the grain of comfort that his companion was able to give.

"I don't think so; I know so; if the gintlemen took the bastes into the cabin and slipt with the same ivery night, as me rilatives do with their pigs in Ireland, why ye might think that they had suffered before the Winnebagos tuk thim away; but they have snaaked up where the animals was grazin', jumped onto their backs and rid off."

This view of the case was so reasonable, that Fred rallied and half smiled at his own faintheartedness. He stood erect and drew a deep breath of satisfaction.

"I believe you are right, but it strikes me that such thieves would have stolen all instead of half the horses."

"They've lift the ither three for their frinds that I make no doubt will be along to take thim, if they haven't done so now."

"You know that the loss of a horse is considered almost as bad as the loss of a man in this part of the world."

"Sometimes he amounts to a good deal more, as me mither—"

Terry paused in his remarks, for just then Fred uttered a warning—"Sh!" to signify that something was in the path in front. The next moment, he ran several paces to the right and sheltered himself behind a tree, Terry being only a few seconds behind him.

Both had discovered what it was. A brown bear of moderate size was waddling along toward them. He had probably struck the trail, and finding it easier walking than among the trees and undergrowth, was swinging forward in the direction of the stream that had received such a visit from the cyclone.

The boys could not know for a minute or two whether the beast had seen them, but they felt no alarm. As I have said, he was not very large nor formidable looking, and, if he chose to turn aside to attack them, they were more than his equal. As it was, their own eagerness to get forward was all that prevented them from shooting him.

Bruin lumbered ahead in his awkward way, and, as the boys peeped forth, they fancied that his big brown eyes glanced mischievously at them; but they were mistaken. He did not see nor scent them, but went by, and, in a few minutes, disappeared from sight among the trees.

Hardly waiting till he had vanished, the youths stepped back into the path and resumed the rapid pace at which they had been traveling. The sun, that had been partly shining from behind the clouds, was low in the sky, and it was not long before they were journeying in the twilight. The moon rose early, but its light was so much obscured by the mists that it gave little if any help, and the friends were disappointed to find it difficult to make any progress at all.

At this trying juncture, they found themselves once more on the bank of a stream that had to be crossed before they could go any further. It was fully double the width of the one last passed, but did not look as if it was deep.

"My clothes ain't all dry yit," said Terry, "and I'm in favor of wadin' if we can."

"I am afraid it is too deep for that, and with our guns and bundles and thick clothes it isn't an easy thing to swim. Besides it's colder than it was last night and it won't be pleasant to spend a few more hours in wet clothing: mine is about dry."

Fred added that if they should decide to push on, the only way of doing so was by the usual means of a raft. It would take considerable time to build one, and probably still longer to work their way to the other side.

"No use of waitin'," said Terry; "let's take hold; I've an idaa that we ain't far from the cabin and ivery mile that we can make now counts."

Fred started to give his help, when to his unbounded amazement, he narrowly missed going headlong over a small Indian canoe that lay at their feet. They would not have been more surprised had they come upon Deerfoot himself in a sound slumber, and not until they had stooped down and examined it closely were they certain that it was not some log fantastically shaped by nature that had floated thither.

But an Indian canoe it was beyond all mistake, though after searching all around it, they failed to find the paddle so necessary for its propulsion. The boat had been drawn up the bank, underneath some bushes and undergrowth, where it would not have been seen by any one further off than six feet. It was so far back too from the stream that it would require an unusual overflow to carry it away.

It was not so dark that the lads could not see that it was of beautiful pattern and fine make—one of those delicate vessels which under the skillful guidance of its owner skim like a swallow over the water. It was a prize indeed.

Now, as you very well know, there is nothing wonderful about an Indian canoe, but the astonishment of the boys came from the fact that they found it in this place. Fred Linden, in listening to the accounts given by his father on his return in the spring from his trapping expeditions, had heard him say more than once that there was no Indian village between Greville and the camp at the foot of the Ozarks, and that, according to the friendly red men who occasionally visited them, he believed that the nearest lodge lay nearly two hundred miles to the north-west of Greville. It was this fact that gave the Hunters of the Ozark so much confidence in themselves when they went on their long hunts, though, as you have learned, danger did sometimes come from the wandering Indians, the father of Terry Clark having lost his life at their hands.

All this being known to the boys, they had cause to wonder how it was that an Indian canoe lay hidden under the bushes on the shore. None of those people would go to the trouble of making such a boat, unless he expected to use it many times. It would be the same as if you had a costly rowboat constructed with which to cross only once a canal or small stream of water.

But, as in many other cases, it was idle to speculate, and the boys did not allow any feeling of surprise to rob them of the valuable minutes. Finding no paddle with which to manage the boat, Fred cut a small sapling and trimmed it so that he had a pole fully twenty feet long. Then the guns were laid in the bottom, Terry took his seat, and they carefully pushed from shore, Fred managing the pole.

As they suspected, the water was quite shallow, the depth nowhere being more than three or four feet; but the current was rapid, and in some places the bottom of the canoe grated over the gravel. Both had to move well to the stern to raise the bow, so as to allow them to reach land with dry feet.

"It's a pity to allow this to float off and be lost," said Fred; "let's draw it up the bank where the owner won't have any trouble in finding it."

"I would give a good deal if I could be introduced to that same gintleman," remarked Terry, who took off his cap and scratched his head as he added:

"I wonder whither that is one of the canoes from near home?"

"What are you talking about? How could it get here?"

"By some subterranean communication, the same as we boys used to sind notes to the gurls whin I was laarnin' the higher mathematics in college."

Fred made no comment upon the remark of his friend. The canoe, when relieved of their weight, was so light that the bow was pulled to the shore by means of the pole. Then Fred alone drew it up beyond the reach of the water, and it was left until the owner should come forward to claim it.

The two now set out to hunt for the trail, with a view of making eight or ten miles more before they stopped to rest; but the result was discouraging. It took more than a half hour to make sure they had found it, and then they had not gone twenty yards, when Fred said he could not tell whether he was in the path or not.

"It's no use," he added; "we may as well stop, for we are sure to repeat the mistake of to-day: we'll get so far wrong that it'll take many hours to find our way back again, and we shall lose far more than we gain."

"That bein' the same—and I'm willin' to agraa that ye are now strivin' to till the truth—let's turn off from the trail, go back so far that there isn't any chance for any one to saa us and slaap till mornin'."

Since there was nothing else to do, the boys did as Terry proposed. They were not so tired as they were the night before, and they did not dare to lie down on the leaves and sleep as they did then. There were wild animals prowling through the woods, and the fact that the lads escaped once could be no guaranty that they would have equally good fortune a second time.

Terry proposed that they should climb a tree and make a bed among the branches; but that was hardly feasible. It is not often that the limbs of a tree are accommodating enough to allow any one to rest with comfort. The branches may be pleasant for a time, but the limbs soon become like iron rods and the position so cramped as to drive away all comfort. In addition, there was the danger of a fatal fall during sleep.

So it was decided to hunt out the most secluded place possible and start a fire. That would keep off the wild animals, and the boys were not in such need of sleep that they could not afford to take turns with each other in watching through the night.

While hunting a suitable spot, they moved down the river bank for fully a hundred yards, and then entered some dense undergrowth which they penetrated until they were sure that no safer place could be found. So they began gathering twigs, leaves and branches, and piling them against the shaggy bark of a tree, and soon had all they wanted. This was fired by means of the flint and steel, and a roaring, crackling blaze made every thing look cheerful.

"Let's walk off a little ways," said Fred, "and see whether the light can be noticed very far; you know that we can not be too careful."

Terry liked the proposal, and rose to act upon it. They moved in opposite directions, walking several rods, and then carefully passing entirely around the camp-fire. The result was satisfactory, for the undergrowth in all directions was so thick that they felt as secure from discovery as if the fire had been kindled within an impenetrable cave.

And yet they were woefully mistaken, as they were destined to learn in a brief while.



CHAPTER XXXV.

AMERICA VERSUS IRELAND.

Having satisfied themselves that they could not have fallen upon a safer place, the boys came back to their camp, as it may be called, and sat down in front of the blaze. Their knapsacks were unstrapped from their backs and the blankets spread upon the leaves. There was some moisture in the thick cloth, but not enough to deter them from using them as couches. Their own clothing had become dry, and, under the warm glow of the fire, the blankets would soon be the same.

In spite of the reconnoissance just made, both felt some uneasiness over their own situation. They were confident that no one further away than two or three rods would observe the fire, but the possibility remained that some enemy might pass within that space, brief as it was. Their experience since leaving Greville taught them that a large number of Winnebagos were in the wilderness, and, as Terry remarked, the nearer they approached camp, the more plentiful did they seem to become.

It was this feeling which caused them to let the fire sink to half its first size and led them to keep far back within the circle of light thrown into the surrounding gloom. They talked in low voices, often listening and looking around, and were in any thing but a comfortable frame of mind. The feeling with them was that if any enemy should happen to be lurking in the vicinity, every possible advantage would be on his side.

"I feel, Terry, as though all this is wasted time. I know it is more than likely that the Winnebagos are doing the same as we, that is, nothing at all; but that makes me more anxious to push on."

"I've an idaa," remarked the Irish lad, who was stretched out in a lazy posture, with his cap in hand, while, as was his custom, he scratched his pate with the other; "I'm thinkin' why couldn't we aich take a torch in hand and walk along over the path with the same?"

Fred was half inclined to try the experiment, but fear prevented. They had learned that the Winnebagos were not only in the rear but in front. No more conspicuous target can be given than that of a person carrying a lighted torch: it was the same as when a man with a candle in his hand starts out to explore his house for burglars. So that plan was not adopted.

Terry was about to speak to his companion, when the latter saw him start, and, rising quickly to the sitting position, stare at a point beyond Fred. He had seen something that terrified him.

With his big round eyes still fixed on the gloom behind young Linden, Terry stealthily reached for his gun, which lay on the leaves close by, and softly drew back the flint. Fred, as may be supposed, was alarmed, and starting half to his feet, glanced nervously around.

He saw nothing.

"What's the matter?" he asked in an undertone, as he also laid his hand upon his weapon.

"Whin I was lookin' at ye," said Terry in a husky whisper, "I obsarved one of the spalpeens standin' right behind ye and close enough to touch ye with his hand. Before I could spake, he slipped out of sight like a shadder."

Fred did not ask his companion whether he was sure of what he said, for he knew he was not mistaken.

"That shows we shouldn't have started the fire; it has caught the eye of some of the Indians, who will be here in a few minutes; let's slip back in the darkness and get as far off as we can; it don't make much difference what course we take, but it will never do to stay here."

Fred Linden had no more than completed his guarded remark, when he too caught sight of a warrior standing on the very edge of the circle of light and looking straight at him. The view of the dusky intruder was faint but unmistakable.

The outlines and figure received enough of the firelight to cause him to look like a dim painting against a dark background. He was holding a rifle in one hand and appeared to be contemplating the lads, as if seeking to learn their identity before he advanced or performed some action.

"Sh! don't stir," whispered Fred, softly raising the hammer of his gun, "I see him,—I'll drop him!"

With the utmost caution he brought the gun around in front until it was almost to his breast. Then as quickly as he could he raised it to his shoulder and aimed at the daring redskin.

But the latter was invisible, he had vanished like the picture on the slide of a magic lantern.

As you may suppose, the boys began to feel queer. There was something so peculiar about this business that, as Terry expressed it, he was "crawly all over." What they might have done can only be guessed, for before they could move away from the fire, Deerfoot the Shawanoe, who had been having a little amusement at their expense, advanced from the gloom and addressed them.

"The heart of Deerfoot is glad when he sees his brothers do not sleep; he has watched them, but their eyes are open."

"Wal, be the powers!" muttered Terry Clark, hastily rising to his feet, as did Fred; "the spalpeen that plays that trick on me has got to fight it out."

And he began taking off his coat and spitting on his hands, to show that the matter could only be settled by a bout at fisticuffs. Deerfoot had extended his hand to Fred and he smiled at the combative Irish lad, who put up his fists and began dancing about him in the most belligerent fashion.

"Give him a trial," whispered Fred, with a laugh.

"Deerfoot loves his brothers; he can not hurt them."

"If ye can git the bist of mesilf," said Terry, who was still sawing the air and hopping about as though the ground had become hot; "I'll think more of ye than iver before, bein' that I think more of ye now than I ever can, and I defy ye to sit your gun aside and git the bist of me in any way."

"Go for him," urged Fred, knowing that the Irish boy, strong and active as he was, had no chance with the Shawanoe; "he thinks he is your master when you don't use your weapons. If you will give him a lesson, it will do him good."

"Deerfoot will try to be a teacher to my brother," said the Shawanoe gravely, handing his gun to Fred, and following with his knife and tomahawk, that he might have no weapons except such as nature gave him. Then he threw some wood on the fire, so that the space immediately surrounding them was as light as noonday. Finally, every thing being ready, he proceeded to "go for" Mr. Terence Clark in a truly aboriginal fashion.

Now, it must be borne in mind that, though there was and could not be the least ill feeling between the youths, yet each was resolutely resolved to overcome the other in the most emphatic manner at his command. Terry did not mean to batter the handsome face of his dusky friend, but to tap it so smartly that he would feel it. The naturally combative lad was an adept with his fists, and he meant to strike Deerfoot often enough to convince him of his inferiority. Then he would rush in, seize the young warrior and throw him to the ground, repeating it several times, until his antagonist cried, "Hold! Enough!" Fred Linden was to play the part of referee, and decide which was the better man. Thus you see the match bore some similarity to those of the present day, in which the victor is declared to be the one who in a certain number of rounds gains the advantage of the other.

"As I am to be the boss of this business," sald Fred, with the keenest zest, "let me explain the terms: Each one is to strike the other as often as he can, the blows to be sharp enough to be felt pretty plainly, but not enough to cause any injury. I will let this go on until one of you has enough, or until I am satisfied of the superiority of one over the other. After that you are to have a wrestling match. When I call for you to stop, you must do so, no matter how anxious you may be to go on. Is that understood?"

"The terms are agraaable to mesilf," said Terry; "it is sittled that there's to be no bettin' on the match."

"I have no objection to your betting if you wish, but inasmuch as you haven't a cent and Deerfoot never did such a thing as bet in all his life, I don't think there will be any trouble about holding the stakes."

"There ain't to be any foul blows in this," added Terry, who showed that he knew more than most of his friends about the "Irish champions" and the cause that made them champions of England and Ireland.

"What do you mean by foul blows?" asked the puzzled Fred.

"Hits below the belt. What I wished to observe, howiver, is that we ain't to recognize such things as foul blows in this fight for the championship of Louisiana. Aich one is to git the bist of the ither in the bist way he can. The rule, Deerfut, is for such pugilists to shake hands before beginnin' to try to knock aich ither out."

And Terry extended his hand, which the young warrior gravely shook, for, as you can well understand, this was something to which he was altogether unaccustomed. He knew, however, the nature of the contest between himself and his doughty Irish friend, and he entered into it with the calm confidence with which he would have engaged Tecumseh himself in a fight to the death with knives.

Deerfoot did not put up his hands after the manner of a pugilist, nor did he even close them, but fixing his eyes on those of Terry (just as he always did in his deadly fights with his antagonists), he began softly circling about him, like a cat searching for a chance to leap upon his prey.

This did not disconcert Terry, whose pose would have been pronounced excellent by any one competent to judge. The left arm and foot were advanced, the right fist being held across and just in front of the breast, ready to take advantage of the first opening that presented itself.

As Deerfoot circled around Terry, the latter moved around him, each on the alert for a chance.

"Moind yer eye," Terry was kind enough to say; "it's a pity to sp'il such a handsome face, but a sinse of dooty will not allow me to thrifle, and so here goes!"

With that he made a creditable lunge with his left, instantly following it with his right hand, and leaping back to avoid a counter. He did not strike Deerfoot nor did he receive a blow in return.

"Ye are quick on yer faat and very good at dodgin', but it is an obligation ye owe to yersilf and to America to show whither thim foin purty hands can hit——"

Rap, whack, spat! The Shawanoe smote one cheek of Terry, then the other, and then his mouth, the blows being so quick that they seemed to be simultaneous. At the moment they were delivered, the Irish lad could not see that the young warrior had stirred. He appeared to be moving in his cat-like way around him, but beyond reach of Terry's own tough fists. Seeing that he must force matters, he made a furious rush for his antagonist.

You must not set down Terry Clark as an awkward fellow who went into the contest without any skill. His father in his younger days was one of the best fighters in the north of Ireland, and he had taught considerable of his science to his only son, who gave an exhibition of what he could do when he smote the Winnebago that was swinging the cow-bell. There was not a lad anywhere near his years in Greville whom he could not master.

Deerfoot knew nothing of the modern rules of self-defense. His superiority lay in his unequaled dexterity and quickness. It was that, as you will recall, which enabled him to win so many victories over foes who were his superior in every other respect.



CHAPTER XXXVI.

AMERICA VERSUS AMERICA.

Terence Clark gathered himself for another rush and blow at the Shawanoe, when the latter with a quickness which the eye of Fred Linden could hardly follow, ducked under the arm of the Irish lad and again struck him a resounding blow with the flat of the hand, first on one side of the face and then on the other. Terry wheeled and returned the blows with skill. Once his hand grazed the black hair that was dangling about Deerfoot's head, and several times he touched the nodding feathers, but strive as much as he might, he could not reach the fellow himself.

Now that the combat may be said to have opened, it went through to the end without halt or break. Here, there, everywhere dodged and struck the Shawanoe, while Terry was always just too late to catch him. Deerfoot might have inflicted considerable injury upon his plucky antagonist, had he struck him with his closed hand, but he always used his open palm. Some of the blows resounded like pistol shots. Having delivered all that he wished, Deerfoot doubled up his left hand so that only the index finger was extended. With this he punched the right and left ribs of Terry, then his chest, and then actually flipped each side of his nose, easily dodging the blows which the half angered Irish lad aimed at him in return.