and my willingness to learn gaining me
their friendship, they supplied me plentifully with food. I was
puzzled, however, to know on what account they had carried me off, as I
certainly could in no way benefit them. I concluded that one object
might be to hold me as a hostage, in case any of their party should be
taken prisoners.

The chief took me out riding with him, in search of deer or other game.
He was armed with his bow and a long spear; and knowing that a bow would
be of little use in my hands, he gave me a spear, with which to defend
myself or attack any animals we might come across. He kept a sharp
look-out on me, however, in case I might try to escape; but I well knew
that, under present circumstances, it would be useless to make the
attempt.

We were successful the first day in running down a young deer, with
which we returned to the camp. As we approached, what was my surprise
to hear the sound of a fiddle! Surely those tones could be produced by
no one but Mike Laffan! Could he have escaped? There, sure enough, as
we rode up to the lodges, was Mike himself, standing in the midst of a
group of Indians; while he was fiddling away with might and main, they
were dancing to the best of their ability, and keeping very good time
too.

On seeing me he shouted out, "Good luck to ye, Masther Roger! Sure my
heart was nigh breaking, when I thought ye had been drownded or shot to
death by these rid gintlemen; but it would not do to show me grafe, lest
it would make them think manely of me, so thinks I to meself, I'll
fiddle away as long as me elbow can move."

All the time he was speaking, he continued to play as furiously as at
first; most of those surrounding him jumping and whirling round and
round, or keeping time with their hands. The Indians, we knew, must
have been aware that we were friends, and therefore it would be of no
use to pretend that we were strangers to each other.

Mike was at length obliged to stop playing; upon which the chief ordered
that he should be brought before him, and inquired how he had been
captured. What account those who had taken him gave, I could not make
out; but Mike told me how, after the canoe had been upset, he had
floated some way down the stream clinging tightly to it. Most of the
articles were soon thrown out. The guns, of course, had at once gone to
the bottom, but the bales floated down. At last he saw his beloved
fiddle washed out.

"Faix! it would have