which took
account of every broken twig and trampled blade of grass, this prolonged
until the rain was falling smartly to wash out all the foot-prints in
the dusty road, Yeates and the Indian gave over and came to join us
under the sheltering branches of an oak.

"'Tis a mighty cur'is sign; most mighty cur'is," quoth the hunter,
slinging the rain-drops from his fur cap and emptying the pan of his
rifle, not upon the ground, as a soldier would, but saving every
precious grain. "Ez I allow, I never heerd tell of any Injuns a-doing
that-away afore; have you, Chief? hey?"

The Catawba's negative was his guttural "Wah," and Ephraim Yeates,
having carefully restored the final grain of the priming to his
powder-horn, proceeded to enlighten us at some length.

"Mighty cur'is, ez I was a-saying. Them Injuns fixed up an ambush_ment_,
blazed in a volley at the clostest sort o' range, and followed it up
with a tomahawk and knife rush,--lessen that there Afrikin was too plumb
daddled to tell any truth, whatsomedever. And, spite of all this here
rampaging, they never drawed a single drop o' blood in the whole
enduring scrimmage! Mighty cur'is, that; ain't it, now? And that ain't
all: some o' them same Injuns, or leastwise one of 'em, was a-wearing
boots with spurs onto 'em. What say, Chief?"

Uncanoola held up all the fingers of one hand and two of the other.
"Sebben Injun; one pale-face," he said, in confirmation.

I looked at Richard, and he gave me back the eyeshot, with a hearty
curse to speed it.

"Falconnet!" said he, by way of tail-piece to the oath; and I nodded.

"'Twas that there same hoss-captain, sure enough, ez I reckon," drawled
Yeates. "Maybe one o' you two can tell what-all he mought be a-driving
at."

Jennifer shook his head, and I, too, was silent. 'Twas out of all reason
to suppose that the baronet would resort to sheer violence and make a
terrified captive of the woman he wanted to marry. It was a curious
mystery, and the hunter's next word involved it still more.

"And yit that ain't all. Whilst some o' the Injuns was a-whooping it up
acrost the creek, a-chasing the folks that was making tracks for their
city o' refuge, t'others run the two gals off into the big woods at the
side o' the road. Then Mister Hoss-Captain picks up the Afrikin, chucks
him on a hoss and sends him a-kiting with his flea in his ear; after
which he climbs _his_ hoss and makes tracks hisself--not to ketch up
with the gals, ez yo