as well as smaller game, with my
rifle.

Old Matt had always taught me that there was nothing in the world to be
afraid of but one's own self--a philosophy which was very pretty in
theory, but not always capable of being reduced to practice. But I
certainly was not afraid of an Indian, or of any number of them. From
my rough old guardian I had acquired a certain contempt for them; but I
had never passed through an Indian war or an Indian massacre. I had
heard of the savage Blackfeet, and other tribes, who were not to be
contemned, but I had never seen any of them.

I hastily completed the stringing of my fish, thinking all the time how
I should conduct the expedition in which I was to engage. Indeed, I
could think of nothing else; for, although I had often been away on
similar excursions, it was always in company with my guardian, while on
the present occasion I was to manage for myself. I forgot that I was
hungry, and only lived in the brilliant schemes for recovering the
horses, capturing the camp, and even wiping out the Indians themselves.
I was bent on desperate deeds, and intended to convince old Matt that I
was worthy of the confidence he reposed in me.

"You have been lucky to-day, Phil Farringford," said a voice near me,
as I rose from the bottom of the boat to step on shore.

It was Mr. Mellowtone, an old neighbor of ours, who had squatted on an
island in the river. He was a good friend of mine, and I regarded him
with the utmost love and respect. He had taught me to read and write,
and furnished me books, which had been both a comfort and a blessing to
me.

"I have done first rate to-day," I replied. "Won't you take some of
these?"

"Thank you, Phil Farringford. I will take two or three of them, if you
have any to spare."

"Take as many as you can use, Mr. Mellowtone," I continued, removing
from the twig some of the handsomest of the fish.

"Enough, Phil Farringford. I am not a swine, to eat more than six
pounds of trout in a day," said he, with a smile.

I strung them upon a willow twig, and handed them to him, as he stood
in his barge--a very aristocratic craft, which he had brought with him
from the regions of civilization.

"I must be in a hurry now, Mr. Mellowtone. Won't you come up to the
Castle with me? The Indians stole both of our horses this afternoon,
and I am going out after them."

"That's unfortunate," he replied, running his barge upon the bank. "I
will walk up to the Castle wit