ah with pity and love for him and a fear that her long
cherished dream could never be realized.

One dark, stormy night, when the rain beat down in torrents and the
swollen river raged almost to its banks, Isaac slipped out of his
lodge unobserved and under cover of the pitchy darkness he got
safely between the lines of tepees to the river. He had just the
opportunity for which he had been praying. He plunged into the water
and floating down with the swift current he soon got out of sight of
the flickering camp fires. Half a mile below he left the water and
ran along the bank until he came to a large tree, a landmark he
remembered, when he turned abruptly to the east and struck out
through the dense woods. He travelled due east all that night and
the next day without resting, and with nothing to eat except a small
piece of jerked buffalo meat which he had taken the precaution to
hide in his hunting shirt. He rested part of the second night and
next morning pushed on toward the east. He had expected to reach the
Ohio that day, but he did not and he noticed that the ground seemed
to be gradually rising. He did not come across any swampy lands or
saw grass or vegetation characteristic of the lowlands. He stopped
and tried to get his bearings. The country was unknown to him, but
he believed he knew the general lay of the ridges and the
water-courses.

The fourth day found Isaac hopelessly lost in the woods. He was
famished, having eaten but a few herbs and berries in the last two
days; his buckskin garments were torn in tatters; his moccasins were
worn out and his feet lacerated by the sharp thorns.

Darkness was fast approaching when he first realized that he was
lost. He waited hopefully for the appearance of the north star--that
most faithful of hunter's guides--but the sky clouded over and no
stars appeared. Tired out and hopeless he dragged his weary body
into a dense laurel thicket end lay down to wait for dawn. The
dismal hoot of an owl nearby, the stealthy steps of some soft-footed
animal prowling round the thicket, and the mournful sough of the
wind in the treetops kept him awake for hours, but at last he fell
asleep.

CHAPTER VII.

The chilling rains of November and December's flurry of snow had
passed and mid-winter with its icy blasts had set in. The Black
Forest had changed autumn's gay crimson and yellow to the somber hue
of winter and now looked indescribably dreary. An ice gorge had
formed in the