groan, and dropped to the ground, shot through
the heart.

In his weak condition he had not been able to reach the shelter of a
tree in season to save himself. We knew now what the savages meant.

CHAPTER V.

IN WHICH PHIL FOLLOWS KIT CRUNCHER.

Old Matt Rockwood, my friend and protector, the friend and protector of
my childhood, was dead.

Ten years before, he had taken me to his home and his heart, and since
that time had done for me all that his limited means would permit. He
had been a father to me, and the bullet that sped through his heart
lacerated mine.

All that I could remember of existence was associated with the Castle
and its vicinity, though I was not born there. I knew nothing of my
parents, and nothing of the circumstances under which I had come into
the world. Ten years before, while upon a hunt, Matt Rockwood had
wrapped himself up in his blanket, and slept on the bank of the
Missouri, about a dozen miles below the Castle. It was in the spring,
and the water was very high, for the melting snows in the mountains had
swelled the mighty stream to its fullest volume.

A bright light awoke the hunter in the evening, and he discovered a
steamer on fire in the river, only a short distance below. Launching
his bateau, in which he had come down the stream, he paddled with all
his might to the scene of disaster. The pilot had run the steamer
ashore; but before those on board could escape,--for the fire was in
the forward part of the boat,--the swift current carried her off again,
and she descended the stream at a rapid rate. Matt paddled after her;
but, half a mile below the point where the steamer had run ashore, he
heard the wail of a child, very near him.

The light from the burning boat enabled him to see the child. It was
floating on a door, which had evidently been put into the water to
support its helpless burden. Matt, who often told me the story,
believed that the child's father, or some other person, had intended to
ferry the little one on shore in this manner, when the steamer had been
run aground. Probably the starting of the boat had defeated his plan,
or possibly the person who was trying to save the child had lost his
hold on the door. There was no one near the little raft. Matt took the
young voyager on the great river from its perilous situation. It was
benumbed with cold, and he wrapped it in his blanket, and laid it in
the bottom of the boat.

Hardly had he accomplished thi