into a life which would no longer
be play, but eventful, stirring, hazardous.

"Wal, lad, stay," he said, with that rare smile which brightened his
dark face like a ray of stray sunshine. "We'll hang round these
diggins a few days. First off, we'll take in the lay of the land.
You go down stream a ways an' scout round some, while I go up, an'
then circle down. Move slow, now, an' don't miss nothin'."

Joe followed the stream a mile or more. He kept close in the shade
of willows, and never walked across an open glade without first
waiting and watching. He listened to all sounds; but none were
unfamiliar. He closely examined the sand along the stream, and the
moss and leaves under the trees. When he had been separated from
Wetzel several hours, and concluded he would slowly return to camp,
he ran across a well-beaten path winding through the forest. This
was, perhaps, one of the bridle-trails Wetzel had referred to. He
bent over the worn grass with keen scrutiny.

CRACK!

The loud report of a heavily charged rifle rang out. Joe felt the
zip of a bullet as it fanned his cheek. With an agile leap he gained
the shelter of a tree, from behind which he peeped to see who had
shot at him. He was just in time to detect the dark form of an
Indian dart behind the foliage an hundred yards down the path. Joe
expected to see other Indians, and to hear more shots, but he was
mistaken. Evidently the savage was alone, for the tree Joe had taken
refuge behind was scarcely large enough to screen his body, which
disadvantage the other Indians would have been quick to note.

Joe closely watched the place where his assailant had disappeared,
and presently saw a dark hand, then a naked elbow, and finally the
ramrod of a rifle. The savage was reloading. Soon a rifle-barrel
protruded from behind the tree. With his heart beating like a
trip-hammer, and the skin tightening on his face, Joe screened his
body as best he might. The tree was small, but it served as a
partial protection. Rapidly he revolved in his mind plans to outwit
the enemy. The Indian was behind a large oak with a low limb over
which he could fire without exposing his own person to danger.

"Bang!" The Indian's rifle bellowed; the bullet crumbled the bark
close to Joe's face. The lad yelled loudly, staggered to his knees,
and then fell into the path, where he lay quiet.

The redskin gave an exultant shout. Seeing that the fallen figure
remained quite motionless he steppe