of English prevented him from addressing me. As soon as the venison was
sufficiently cooked, I handed him the larger portion with some salt and
a piece of corn bread which I had baked in the morning. He ate the food
with evident satisfaction.

"Good, good!" he said.

They were the first words he had spoken, and he then made signs that he
should like something to drink. We had no spirits; my father had always
refused to give the Indians "fire-water," I therefore brewed some tea,
and offered him a tin mug with plenty of sugar in it. He was evidently
disappointed at the taste, but drank it off and then held out his cup
for more. When he appeared to be satisfied, I asked him if he spoke the
language of the "pale-faces."

He nodded.

"Then perhaps you will say why you come to pay me a visit?"

"I was hungry, and I knew you had meat to give," he answered. "I have
lived long with the `pale-faces' when I was a boy, and know that some
are good and kind, and others bad and cruel. I have heard of the white
chief up at the farm, and that he is just and generous to all the
red-men who go there. It is right, therefore, that he should be
preserved from harm. A short time back it came to my knowledge that the
Blackfeet, who are jealous of any of the pale-faces coming into their
country, have formed a plan to destroy the farm, and to kill all the
inhabitants. I was on my way to give them warning, when I discovered
traces of white men hunting in this neighbourhood. Following up a
recent trail, I was led to your camp. I guessed you belonged to the
farm, and would save me from the necessity of going there. I must
charge you not to tell any of the red-men you may meet with from whom
you obtained the information. I have warned you, be wise. The attack
may be immediate, or it may not be made for some moons to come, but one
thing is certain, that when the Blackfeet think you are off the watch,
they will try to surprise you, and having resolved on a deed they seldom
change their minds."

I, of course, thanked the Indian for his warning, assuring him that my
father was too wise a man not to profit by it, and that he would be glad
to reward him for the important service he had rendered us.

"Kluko requires no reward. Gratitude prompts him to try and save the
lives of his pale-faced friends," answered the Indian.

I, of course, do not give the exact expressions he used; indeed I had
some difficulty in understanding his l