rew them round anywhere. Isaac never heard a
papoose cry. He often pulled down the flap of buckskin and looked at
the solemn little fellow, who would stare up at him with big,
wondering eyes.

Isaac's most intimate friend was a six-year-old Indian boy, whom he
called Captain Jack. He was the son of Thundercloud, the war-chief
of the Hurons. Jack made a brave picture in his buckskin hunting
suit and his war bonnet. Already he could stick tenaciously on the
back of a racing mustang and with his little bow he could place
arrow after arrow in the center of the target. Knowing Captain Jack
would some day be a mighty chief, Isaac taught him to speak English.
He endeavored to make Jack love him, so that when the lad should
grow to be a man he would remember his white brother and show mercy
to the prisoners who fell into his power.

Another of Isaac's favorites was a half-breed Ottawa Indian, a
distant relative of Tarhe's. This Indian was very old; no one knew
how old; his face was seamed and scarred and wrinkled. Bent and
shrunken was his form. He slept most of the time, but at long
intervals he would brighten up and tell of his prowess when a
warrior.

One of his favorite stories was of the part he had taken in the
events of that fatal and memorable July 2, 1755, when Gen. Braddock
and his English army were massacred by the French and Indians near
Fort Duquesne.

The old chief told how Beaujeu with his Frenchmen and his five
hundred Indians ambushed Braddock's army, surrounded the soldiers,
fired from the ravines, the trees, the long grass, poured a pitiless
hail of bullets on the bewildered British soldiers, who,
unaccustomed to this deadly and unseen foe, huddled under the trees
like herds of frightened sheep, and were shot down with hardly an
effort to defend themselves.

The old chief related that fifteen years after that battle he went
to the Kanawha settlement to see the Big Chief, Gen. George
Washington, who was travelling on the Kanawha. He told Gen.
Washington how he had fought in the battle of Braddock's Fields; how
he had shot and killed Gen. Braddock; how he had fired repeatedly at
Washington, and had killed two horses under him, and how at last he
came to the conclusion that Washington was protected by the Great
Spirit who destined him for a great future.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Myeerah was the Indian name for a rare and beautiful bird--the white
crane--commonly called by the Indians, W