rifle flew like a flash to his shoulder. At the
same instant Ree heard John Jerome's familiar whistle, and springing
forward, seized the red man's weapon in time to prevent the speeding of a
leaden messenger of death to his friend's heart. He answered John's call
as he did this, praying and hoping that it could not--must not, have been
his friend who had fired the shot which would probably end the younger
Indian's life.

CHAPTER VI.

On Lonely Mountain Roads.

"What's happened, Ree?"

The tone in which John asked the question, satisfied Kingdom that his
friend knew nothing of the shooting. Better than this, however, it
satisfied the Indian who knelt silently nearby, still listening, that the
boy he had so nearly shot, knew nothing of the person who had fired from
the darkness.

Quietly, but in tones the Indian could hear, Ree related what he knew of
the mysterious occurrence.

"Who could it have been, Chief!" John asked, turning to the Redskin and
addressing him with the easy familiarity he used toward every one.

The Indian shook his head. "Paleface," he grunted at last; "no tried to
kill Indian; tried to kill white brother there. Black Eagle thinks long
and knows how bullet flew. Man-that-shoots-from-the-dark wishes much to
steal."

Black Eagle's theory was far from satisfying Ree, but the Indian's manner
persuaded the boy that the redskin at least knew nothing of the attack
himself. Yet both boys knew the necessity of keeping a sharp eye turned
in all directions. They could not tell positively as yet whether the
Indians were friends or foes, nor at what moment an attack might be made
by a hidden enemy.

"What kept you, John? I was worried," Ree said in an undertone, yet
taking care that Black Eagle should hear, lest the savage should suspect
him of plotting. But before John could answer, the red man, bending low,
darted away in the darkness.

"What's the old chap up to?" asked John, startled by the Indian's sudden
movement.

"I think he is only scouting around to see what he can discover; but keep
your eyes and ears open, it has been mighty ticklish around here
to-night."

As they watched and listened, John told of his afternoon's experience. He
had gone a long way into the woods without seeing any such game as he
wished, and had about decided to content himself with some squirrels, and
return to the road, when he came upon a deer-lick--a pool of salt or
brackish water, in a flat, level plac