arrow which should have pierced my
heart had been stopped by one of the gold pieces which formed my
breastplate! It had, indeed, pierced the coin, but had only entered my
flesh about a quarter of an inch! Thanking God for the wonderful
deliverance, I plucked it out, and, casting it away, rode up to the
place where the dead man lay. My companion had turned him over, and to
my great surprise, revealed the face of my old foe, Attick!

"Waugh!" exclaimed Big Otter, turning to the captured savage. "Are
there not deer enough in the woods, and buffalo enough on the plains,
that the red-man should take to testing his arrows on pale-faces?"

"I did not shoot," was the stern reply.

"True, but you were the companion, perhaps the friend, of the dead man."

"I was _not_ his friend," replied the savage, more sullenly than ever.

"Then how came you to be with him when making this cowardly attack?" I
asked, in a tone which was meant to conciliate.

The tone had the desired effect. The savage explained that about three
weeks previously he had, while in danger of being killed by a grizzly
bear which he had wounded, been rescued by Attick, who told him that he
was in pursuit of a foe who had injured him deeply, and whom he meant to
hunt to death. Out of gratitude the Indian had consented to follow
him--believing his story to be true. Attick explained that he had
followed his foe from the far north, day by day, week by week, month by
month, seeking an opportunity to slay him; but so careful a watch had
been kept by his foe and the Indian and woman who travelled with him
that he had not up to that time found an opportunity. Attick and his
new ally had then dogged us to Sunny Creek--the village at which we had
arrived--and, finding that we no longer feared danger from hostile
Indians, and had relaxed our vigilance, they had made up their minds to
stay there patiently till the deed could be accomplished. That day,
while consulting about the matter in the woods, we had suddenly and
unexpectedly appeared before them, and Attick had discharged his arrow.

"But" concluded the savage, with a perplexed look, "the pale-face cannot
be killed. Arrows cannot pierce him."

"You are right," said I, suddenly coming to a decision in regard to the
man. "Neither bullet nor arrow can kill me till my work is done, and
the Great Master of Life permits me to die. Go--and be more careful
whom you follow in future."

I cut the thong that bo