bout
Paul. None of them had seen him. Straggling bands of Indians continually
joined their force. Captives were always a possibility in the savage
camp. Paul might have been taken hundreds of miles away.

But I had the padlocked book, which might tell the whole story. With
desperate haste that could hardly wait to open the lids, I took it out,
wondering at the patience which long self-restraint had bred in me. I
was very tired, and stretched my arms across the pillow where Paul's
head had lain, to rest one instant. But I must have slept. My hand woke
first, and feeling itself empty, grasped at the book. It was gone, and
so was the sun.

I got a light and searched, thrusting my arm between the bunk and the
log wall. It was not on the floor, or in my breast pocket, or in my
saddle-bags.

The robbery was unendurable. And I knew the Indian who had done it. He
was the quietest, most stubborn Oneida that ever followed an adopted
white man. Why he had taken the book I could not understand. But I was
entirely certain that he had taken it out of my hand while I slept. He
would not break the padlock and read it, but like a judicious father he
would take care of a possibly unwholesome volume himself.

I went out and found the bald-headed and well-beloved wretch. He was
sitting with his knees to his chin by the evening log fire.

"Skenedonk," I said, "I want my book."

"Children and books make a woman of you," he responded. "You had enough
books at Longmeadow."

"I want it at once," I repeated.

"It's sorcery," he answered.

"It's a letter from Madame de Ferrier, and may tell where she is."

His fawn eyes were startled, but he continued to hug his knees.

"Skenedonk, I can't quarrel with you. You were my friend before I could
remember. When you know I am so bound to you, how can you deal me a
deadly hurt?"

"White woman sorcery is the worst sorcery. You thought I never saw it.
But I did see it. You went after her to Paris. You did not think of
being the king. So you had to come back with nothing. That's what woman
sorcery does. Now you have power with the tribes. The President sees
you are a big man! And she sends a book to you to bewitch you! I knew
she sent the book as soon as I saw it."

"Do you think she sent Paul?"

He made no answer.

"Madame de Ferrier does not know I have the book."

"You haven't it," said Skenedonk.

"But you have."

"If she wrote and sent a letter she expected it would be received.