ime, and was a very great comfort to him. We were all watching the
path which led across the field into the forest, for this was the only
approach to the Castle by the land side. Matt's farm--as he called
it--was situated between two deep creeks, the Fish on the west and the
Bear on the east. Half a mile from the cabin, in the midst of the
forest, was a lake, through which flowed Bear Creek. Half way between
this sheet of water and the Little Fish ran Kit's Brook, on the bank of
which was a path leading to the hunter's cabin. The great thoroughfare
to the north was by the Fish, and this was the only practicable way for
mounted men, and was the road by which the Indians came down to the
Missouri to exchange their peltries for powder and whiskey.

While we were all watching the spot where the path entered the forest,
a couple of redskins emerged from its shades, and hurried towards the
Castle. As they approached we all raised our rifles. Even old Matt rose
from his seat, and prepared to use his weapon. But the savages made the
signs of peace; and Kit, to whom we all looked for inspiration and
direction, permitted them to approach. I immediately identified them as
the two who had stolen our horses, and whom I had seen rolling among
the burning brands the night before. Their greasy garments showed the
marks of fire, and the leggings of one of them were nearly burned off.

"Those are the redskins who stole our horses," said I to Kit Cruncher.

"Jest so," replied Kit, as the savages halted before us.

They were very much excited, and looked decidedly ugly. Their eyes were
bloodshot after the debauch of the preceding night, and their eyeballs
seemed to be marked by the fiery nature of the liquor they had drank.

"Ugh!" growled one of them, shaking his head.

"Well, old Blower, what do you want?" demanded Kit, straightening up
his tall, gaunt form.

"Want um hosses," snarled the Indian, shaking his head violently, as
though he was so ugly he could not contain himself.

"D'ye want to steal some hosses?" added Kit, sternly.

"Ugh! White man steal hosses! Lose um two hosses," howled the
spokesman, pointing to the barn.

We understood what he meant. He evidently thought it quite right for
him to steal our horses, but very wicked for us to reciprocate in the
same manner.

"Well, they sarved you jest as you sarved them. You stole Matt's
bosses, his folks stole yours. That's fair play," added Kit.

"No steal hosses!" grow