hat would appear suspended in mid-air. This last effort, as the
paymaster explained to Donald, he would produce by painting the face on
a bit of bark that should be attached to a fish-line. One end of this
should be tossed over the limb of a tree, and the affair should be
jerked into position at the proper moment.

The projector of this entertainment was enthusiastic and confident.
"Tummas," who was an interested listener to all that was said, chuckled
audibly, as he reflected upon the dismay of the savages, and even
Donald looked forward to the experiment with interest.

Alas! that such well-laid plans should be doomed to failure; but such
was the lamentable fact. When, soon after landing, the paymaster
called for boiling water, the Indians watched him swallow his
effervescing mixture with unmoved faces. When he hurled a ball of
clay, charged with fulminating powder, at a tree, missed his mark, and
caused the missile to fall harmlessly in the water, they gazed at him
pityingly. When, an hour later, he strolled over to their camp-fire
and carelessly tossed what appeared to be a stone into it, they drew
back a few paces, watched the play of colored flames that followed,
with interest, and were not at all disturbed by the small explosion
that took place a minute afterwards. To crown all, when their
attention was attracted to a flaming face swinging in the darkness
above their heads, the Zebra deliberately raised his gun and blew the
bit of bark to atoms, with the point-blank discharge of a load of
buckshot. Then the Indians calmly resumed their positions and their
pipes, while the crestfallen author of this signal failure, unable to
find words to express his feelings, sullenly retired to the canoe and
rolled himself in a blanket.

The next morning, as Donald emerged from his plunge in the lake, he
detected one of the Indians crouching beside the canoe, and evidently
tampering with its bark covering. Naked as he was, the young fellow
bounded to the spot and, ere the Indian was aware of his presence,
knocked him sprawling with a single blow. Like a panther the savage
sprang to his feet, and, knife in hand, rushed at his assailant.
Suddenly he paused, his outstretched arm fell to his side, and he stood
like one petrified, with his eyes fixed on Donald. Then, in excellent
English, he said slowly:--

"Why did not Quickeye tell his red brother that he was of the Totem of
the Bear and of the magic circle of the Met