m you."

"It was. This is the new skin, about a billionth of an inch thick,
and oh-h-h-h," moaned the lad, struggling to his feet. "I wish you had
my skin, Ned Rector. No, I don't, either I---I wish yours were drawn
as tightly as mine."

"Come on for a run and you will feel better" cried Tad, grasping the
fat boy by an arm and racing him down to the river and back,
accompanied by a series of howls from Stacy. But the limbering-up
process was a success. Stacy felt better. He was able to do full
justice to the breakfast that was served on the greasy blanket shortly
afterwards. For breakfast the white men shared their bacon with the
chief, which the Indian ate, grunting appreciatively.

Before leaving, the boys bought some of the finer specimens of the
Indian blankets, which they got remarkably cheap. They decided to do
up a bale of these and send them home to their folks when they reached
a place where there was a railroad. At present they were a good many
miles from a railway, with little prospect even of seeing one for a
matter of several weeks.

After breakfast they bade good-bye to the chief. Chunky wanted to
shake hands with Afraid Of His Face, but the chief would not permit
his young buck to leave the ha-wa. Chi-i-wa, the chief's wife, bade
them a grudging good-bye without so much as turning her head, after
which the party rode away, Chunky uttering dismal groans because the
saddle hurt him, for the fat boy was still very tender.

"I know what I'll do when I get home," he said.

"So do I," laughed Tad.

"Well, what'll I do, if you know so much about it?"

"Why, you will puff out your chest and strut up and down Main Street
for the edification of the natives of Chillicothe," answered Tad.

"That's what he'll do, for sure," jeered Ned. "But we'll be on hand
to take him down a peg or two. Don't you forget that, Chunky."

Joking and enjoying themselves to the fullest, these brown-faced,
hardy young travelers continued on, making camp that night by the
roaring river, reaching Camp Butler the following forenoon.

Chow, the half breed pack-train man, met them with a long face. The
party saw at once that something was wrong.

"What's happened?" snapped Nance.

"The dogs."

"What about them? Speak up."

"Him dead," announced the half breed stolidly.

"Dead?" cried Dad and the boys in one voice.

"Him dead."

"What caused their death?"

The half breed shook his head. All he knew was th