red?"

"No leave cabin," he answered.

"Who do you think fired the guns, Long Hair?"

"Charlie fire gun."

"But Charlie is dead; and the discharge was only a few moments ago."

"No; Indian no sense; Charlie no fire gun. Bub fire gun."

"Impossible," returned the captain, impatiently. "How could such a
child do it?"

"What string for, cap'n?" asked Long Hair, pointing to the twine that
hung from the gun triggers, which, being so near the color of the
walls, had been detected only by the Indian's keen glance. This
ingenious arrangement was examined with interest; and the conviction
was fast gaining ground, that Long Hair was not far from right in his
conclusions.

"But where is the child?" asked the captain; and again they searched
the cabin. The closet was peered into to its topmost shelf; a few
boxes that had been left, emptied of their contents; even the bed on
which Charlie lay was minutely examined, and the improbable
supposition that the walls of the cellar might conceal him was
renounced, as the soldiers struck the butts of their guns against the
stones.

"Is it possible," asked the captain of Long Hair,--for he had learned
to rely much on his sagacity,--"that Bub could escape from the
house?"

Long Hair shook his head, saying,--

"No trail; Bub no go."

"May it plase your honor," said the Irish private, O'Connor, touching
his cap to the captain, "I belave, on me sowl, that it's the ghost of
the brave lad that shot the guns. The likes of him, sir, would be
afther defendin' the cabin if 'twas only out of respect to the
onburied bodies of the women and the childers that has been murthured
by the hathen savages--bad luck to 'em!"

"Long Hair," said the captain, smiling at the superstition of the
warm-hearted Hibernian, "I've a mind, while the men are taking their
rations on the grass, to leave you to clear up this mystery; I
believe, if any one can find it out, you can."

The men, having fallen into line, stacked their guns, and Long Hair
was left alone with Charlie. He stood for a moment looking at the
quiet form of the boy; and the workings of his usually stolid face
showed the affection which he felt for him. He then carefully looked
about the room, then went quietly out, and passed around the cabin,
critically examining the ground as he walked. He soon returned, and
made directly for the cellar, gliding noiselessly in his moccasins
down the stairs. In the dim light he carefully went over the ce