t deceived us all for a while. However, there is one
comfort; it decides the question as we had ourselves decided it: Ethel
is gone with the larger party to the south.'

Breakfast was continued, but with a very subdued feeling. Hubert had now
finished his, and, being a lad of restless habit, he took up the arrow
which lay beside him, and began toying with it.

First he untied the piece of stuff, smoothed it, and put it into his
pocket-book, while his eyes filled with tears; then he continued
listlessly twisting the arrow in his fingers, while he listened to the
conversation around him.

Presently his eyes fell upon the arrow. He started, a flush of
excitement rushed across his face, and his hands and lips trembled as he
closely examined the feather.

All gazed at him with astonishment.

'Oh, papa, papa,' he cried at last, 'I know this arrow!'

'Know the arrow!' all repeated.

'Yes, I am quite, quite sure I know it. Don't you remember, Charley, the
day that those wounded Indians started, as we were taking the quivers
down to them, I noticed that one arrow had two feathers which I had
never seen before, and could not guess what bird they came from. They
were light blue, with a crimson tip. I pulled one off to compare it with
my others. It is at home now. I remember that I chose the one I did,
because the other one had two of the little side feathers gone. This is
the feather, I can most solemnly declare, and you see the fellow one is
gone. That arrow belongs to one of the men we recovered.'

All crowded round to examine the arrow, and then Mr. Hardy said
solemnly, 'Thank God for His mercy, He has decided our way now.
Undoubtedly, as Hubert says, one of the men we aided is of the party,
and wishes to show his gratitude. So he has managed to get a piece of
Ethel's dress, and has tied it to this arrow, hoping that we should
recognise the feather. Thank God, there is no more doubt, and thank Him,
too, that Ethel has at least one friend near her.'

All was now joy and congratulation, and Hubert rubbed his hands, and
said triumphantly, 'There, Charley, you were always chaffing me, and
wanting to know what was the good of my collection, and now you see what
was the good. It has put us on the right trail for Ethel, and you will
never be able to laugh at me about my collection again.'

CHAPTER XVI.

AT THE STAKE.

It was on the evening of the fifth day after her capture by the Indians,
that Ethel Hardy rode