She then filled a mug with soup, and went to Tom, who lay on a
deerskin robe, gazing at her in rapt admiration, and wondering when he
was going to awake out of this most singular dream, for, in his weak
condition, he had taken to disbelieving all that he saw.

"And yet it can't well be a dream," he murmured, with a faint smile, as
the girl knelt by his side, "for I never dreamed anything half so real.
What is this--soup?"

"Yes; try to take a little. It will do you good, with God's blessing."

"Ah, yes, with God's blessing," repeated the poor youth, earnestly.
"You know what that means, Betty, and--and--I _think_ I am beginning to
understand it."

Betty made no reply, but a feeling of profound gladness crept into her
heart.

When she returned to the side of her father she found that he had
finished supper, and was just beginning to use his pipe.

"When are you going to tell me, Paul, about the--the--subject we were
talking of on our way here?" asked Fred, who was still devoting much of
his attention to a deer's rib.

"I'll tell ye now," answered Paul, with a short glance at the Indian
chief, who still sat, profoundly grave, in the dreamland of smoke.
"There's no time like after supper for a good pipe an' a good story--not
that what I'm goin' to tell ye is much of a story either, but it's true,
if that adds vally to it, an' it'll be short. It's about a brave young
Indian I once had the luck to meet with. His name was Oswego."

At the sound of the name Unaco cast a sharp glance at Bevan. It was so
swift that no one present observed it save Bevan himself, who had
expected it. But Paul pretended not to notice it, and turning himself
rather more towards Fred, addressed himself pointedly to him.

"This young Indian," said Paul, "was a fine specimen of his race, tall
and well made, with a handsome countenance, in which truth was as plain
as the sun in the summer sky. I was out after grizzly b'ars at the
time, but hadn't had much luck, an' was comin' back to camp one evenin'
in somethin' of a sulky humour, when I fell upon a trail which I knowed
was the trail of a Redskin. The Redskins was friendly at that time wi'
the whites, and as I was out alone, an' am somethin' of a sociable
critter, I thought I'd follow him up an' take him to my camp wi' me, if
he was willin', an' give him some grub an' baccy. Well, I hadn't gone
far when I came to a precipiece. The trail followed the edge of it for
some distance, an'