tream. The light from the conflagration brought the opposite shore
into faint view, but failed to reveal the Sioux. While the youth was
looking and wondering, however, he heard the splashing of water and
observed Saladin making his way back.

But, instead of doing so at the regular ferry-place, he had gone some
distance above, where the depth was greater. Even while staring at the
pony, the animal sank down so low that it was plain he was swimming.

This of itself was curious, without the additional fact that there was
no one upon his back; he was returning, as may be said, empty handed.

As you may well believe, Melville was startled and alarmed; something
unusual must have happened on the other shore. There could be no doubt
that Saladin had gone entirely across, and now came back without the
chief who expected to ride over the ford.

The lad rose and walked down to the edge of the water to meet his steed.
The latter was obliged to swim only a short distance, when the depth
became so shallow that his body rose above the surface, and he quickly
stepped out on dry land.

"What can this mean?" muttered Melville examining the wetted saddle,
bridle, and accoutrements; "were you sent back, Saladin, or did you come
of your own accord? Ah, if you had the gift of speech!"

It seemed to the lad that he could discern something moving on the other
side, but, with the help of the glare of the distant fire, he could not
make it out.

He ventured to signal to Red Feather by means of the whistle with which
he was accustomed to summon Saladin. The Sioux was sure to identify it
if it reached his ears.

The signal was emitted with such care that it could not have been heard
more than a hundred yards away, and the youth listened with a rapidly
beating heart for the reply.

It came, but in a far different form than was expected or desired. The
sounds showed that other animals had entered the water and were
approaching the opposite bank. At this juncture, too, the glare from the
burning buildings increased to that extent that the other shore came out
more distinctly than ever.

To his dismay Melville observed that the bank was lined with mounted
Indians, three of whom had already ridden into the stream and were
urging their ponies across. They were doing this, too, with a skill
which left no doubt that they knew all about the holes into which one
was likely to plunge.

Where these Sioux--as they undoubtedly were--could have co