"Yes; _I_ knows him!"

"The white man with the forked tongue say jus' now he _not_ knows him."

"Ay, Redskin, an' I said the truth, for he's a rare deceiver--always has
been--an' can pass himself off for a'most anything. I knows him as my
mortal foe. Cast my hands loose an' give me a knife an' you shall see."

"O father! your promise--remember!" exclaimed Betty.

"True, dear lass, true; I forgot," returned Paul, with a humbled look;
"yet it _is_ hard for a man to see him there, grinning like a big
baboon, an' keep his hands off him."

During this dialogue the Indians looked from one speaker to another with
keen interest, although none but their chief understood a word of what
was said; and Stalker took advantage of their attention being turned for
the moment from himself to carry out what Tolly had styled his "little
game," all unaware that the boy was watching him like a lynx.

Among other shifts and devices with which the robber chief had become
familiar, he had learned the conjuror's method of so arranging his limbs
while being bound, that he could untie his bonds in a marvellous manner.
On the present occasion, however, he had been tied by men who were
expert in the use of deerskin thongs, and he found some difficulty in
loosening them without attracting attention, but he succeeded at last.
He had been secured only by the wrists and forearms, and remained
sitting still a few seconds after he was absolutely free; then, seizing
what he believed to be his opportunity, he leapt up, dashed the Indian
nearest him to the earth, and sprang like a deer towards the bushes.

But Tolly Trevor was ready for him. That daring youth plunged right in
front of the big botanist and stooped. Stalker tripped over him and
came violently to the ground on his forehead and nose. Before he could
rise Tolly had jumped up, and swinging his billet of wood once in the
air, brought it down with all his little might on the robber's crown.
It sufficed to stupefy him, and when he recovered he found himself in
the close embrace of three muscular Redskins.

"Well done, Tolly Trevor!" shouted Paul Bevan, enthusiastically.

Even Tom Brixton, who had been looking on in a state of inexpressible
surprise, managed to utter a feeble cheer.

But the resources of the robber were not yet exhausted. Finding himself
in the grasp of overwhelming numbers, he put forth all his strength, as
if to make a final effort, and then, suddenly collapsing, dro