o two pounds
apiece. Mr. Mellowtone declared that they were delicious; and he
justified his praise by his trencher practice. For bread we had cold
johnny cake, for we were out of flour, as no trading steamer had passed
since the ice in the river broke up. We lived well at the Castle, for
besides the game and fish supplied by the woods and the rivers, we had
bacon, pork, potatoes, and vegetables from the farm.

"Now, Phil, you must be keerful," said old Matt, as we were eating our
supper. "Injuns is wicked, and Injuns is cunnin'."

"I will try to be careful," I replied. "I suppose, if we follow Little
Fish Creek, we shall find the Indians before morning."

"Yes, you will. Go through the forest, and cross the brook. Follow the
path till you come to the creek, and you'll be all right. The varmints
hain't got no feed for their hosses, and they won't go fur to-night."

The old man gave us directions how to proceed until we finished the
meal; and after I had put things in order about the house, I slung my
rifle over my shoulder. Mr. Mellowtone had no weapon, and declared that
he needed none. Just at dark we left the Castle, and, crossing the
field, entered the forest. There was a well-beaten path, so that we
were in no danger of losing our way. We crossed the bridge over the
brook which bounded the farm on the north-west; we continued our course
through the forest till we reached Little Fish Creek, at the point
where it flows into Big Fish Creek. All the names of streams and of
localities in the vicinity had been given by Matt Rockwood. The brook
we had crossed was called Kit's Brook, because, three miles from its
junction with the Big Fish, lived on its banks one Kit Cruncher, an old
hunter and trapper, who, until the arrival of Mr. Mellowtone, five
years before, had been Matt's only neighbor.

We followed the Little Fish for an hour without discovering any signs
of the Indians or the horses. We were within a mile, across the
country, of Kit Cruncher's cabin, and we concluded that the thieves
would not deem it prudent to halt near so formidable a person as the
old hunter had proved himself to be.

"Are you sure we are on the right track, Phil Farringford?" asked my
companion.

"We are on the right road to the Indian village," I replied.

"Is it certain that the thieves came from there?"

"They must have come from there, for I don't know of any other Indians
within forty miles of the Castle."

"They may be wanderi