on, saying:

"Maybe we will never meet again, but here is a present which we wish you
to keep. We do not know the enemy who fired upon us, but we were in
danger together and whether it was your foe or ours, who attacked us, we
would have fought together. Good-bye."

"We journey to the fires of the Mohawks," Black Eagle answered. "North
Wind now goes forward but Black Eagle, his father, follows the trail of
snake which shoots from the dark."

As he spoke the Indian turned and strode away. North Wind followed, Ree's
handkerchief still about his neck. He was really too sick to travel, but
it is a severe wound, indeed, which makes an Indian unable to move when
necessity demands it.

For a moment the young travelers looked after the red men; then a word to
their horse and they were once more upon their way.

It was a glorious morning. Particles of frost glistened on the leaves and
grass and in the road; a light wind set the trees and brushes rustling, a
rabbit went bouncing across the path, and still neither boy spoke as they
tramped along beside the cart, Ree in advance, driving.

"Who fired that shot?" John asked at last, as though speaking to
himself.

"May as well ask old Jerry, or the wind," Ree answered. "The same
question has been on my mind so long I am trying to think of something
else."

"But I can't help wondering," John persisted, "if it could have been the
lone horseman we saw the other day. Could it have been Big Pete Ellis,
trying to kill you, Ree? I have been expecting to meet that fellow."

"We must keep our eyes about us," was the only reply.

Several days passed and the mystery of the shot from the darkness was
still unsolved. The boys had now reached the mountainous country and the
nights were often cold. The days, too, gave promise of winter's coming,
and had it not been that they were hopeful of Indian summer weather in
November the young travelers would have been discouraged. Their progress
had not been so rapid as they had planned. The roads were too bad to
permit fast traveling. In many places they were little better than paths
through the woods, and though there were stretches of smoother going,
occasionally, there were other spots in which fallen trees or other
obstructions blocked the way.

Old Jerry stood the strain of the journey well, and that was certainly a
consolation; for some of their friends back in Connecticut had told the
boys they had better stay at home, than attempt to m