Mr. Clarendon himself discovered the door of his
house open. Still uncertain of the truth, he and his friends waited some
time before daring to venture within.

The conclusion of this examination was the natural one, that the Sioux
had fled, taking the children with them. But, as it was clear they could
not have gone far, Trumbull galloped with most of his men to the
crossing, in the hope of coming upon the marauders there.

He had no more than fairly convinced himself that he was in error again
when Melville Clarendon rode up on Saladin, his father making his
appearance shortly after.

The light in the south-east had attracted the notice of the scouts some
time before, and the story told by the youth led Trumbull to believe
the main body was near the Upper Crossing, where doubtless they had made
Red Feather prisoner.

Accordingly, the dozen horsemen set their faces in that direction and
struck into a rapid gallop. The leader was hopeful that, if the slippery
scamps were located, he could reach them. He believed his men were as
well mounted as they, and, if only a fair chance were given, they would
compel the others to fight.

Nat rode at the head, with Mr. Clarendon and Melville just behind him.
The keen eyes of the ranger peered through the darkness into which he
was plunging so swiftly, on the alert for the first sign of an enemy. As
he drew near the Upper Crossing he slackened his pace slightly, those
behind doing the same, with the exception of the settler and his son,
who found themselves at the side of the leader.

"Helloa! there's one of 'em!" exclaimed Nat.

The three saw the figure of an Indian running over the ground with great
swiftness. Knowing his danger, he flung aside his blankets, so that his
flight was unimpeded, and his exhibition of speed excited the admiration
of his pursuers.

"Let him alone," added Trumbull; "I don't want any one else to
interfere--he belongs to _me_."

And then, to the astonishment of every one, the scout made a flying leap
from the saddle, and bounded after the fugitive on foot.

It was an odd chivalrous feeling which led him to do this. Inasmuch as
the warrior had no pony, Trumbull meant that the contest between them
should be without any unfair advantage to either party.

The Sioux was running like a deer, but the white man beat him. Nat
Trumbull is to-day one of the fleetest runners in the north-west, and
no doubt he felt a natural wish to show this Indian, as w