had learned to stalk game and this
training he now put to use. Stealthily approaching, he saw a group of
strange Indians, and with them Caughnega. The latter had set up, in a
little opening among the trees, his wigwam of skins, in which he was
accustomed to perform certain of the rites of a "medicine man." The
boy knew that Caughnega's fame was not confined to the local tribes,
and at once concluded these Indians had come to consult him, probably
as to what the spirits, good and evil, might have to say respecting
the approaching war.

Evidently Caughnega had begun his work, for he was now ready to enter
his wigwam. Silence came upon the group waiting patiently outside.
After quite a long wait a medley of sounds issued from the interior
of the wigwam in which Caughnega was shut and the structure itself
rocked as if in a gale. Knowing that Indians can mimic the sounds of
all animals and birds with which they are acquainted, the boy had no
doubt these sounds were made by Caughnega himself. If so, he was
certainly an artist, and the assembled group sat around awestruck, for
they had no doubt the noises were made by the spirits.

After the disturbance subsided, Caughnega came out and, standing
before them, addressed them, telling what, he said, the spirits had
told him. The message incited the savages to great ardour, which they
manifested by brandishing their tomahawks and yelling.

"So this is the work that villain is doing unknown to Ahneota,"
thought Rodney. Just then he espied a large nest of hornets suspended
to a limb overhanging the group. He recognized the nest as that of a
variety of hornet which is large and valiant. The spirit of mischief
entered the boy and, taking careful aim, he shot an arrow, which
struck and tore away a portion of the paper nest.

Now a hornet does not hold a council of war when disturbed, but
instantly attacks, like an Indian, the first object that presents
itself, and in this instance Caughnega was the first target.

He stood, his back toward the nest, pouring out the words of the
message in sonorous tones. Suddenly this flow of language was
punctuated by a blood-curdling yell, as one of those winged bullets
struck him just behind the left ear. About the same moment others in
the group were hit. Yells and back somersaults were mingled for a
moment, and then those doughty warriors fled as never from the face of
a white man.

Rodney lay on the ground in convulsions of silent laughter.