.

Dechamp and Fergus hastened towards him.

"Have a care, Andre; don't be too quick with your gun," said the former.
"I see only one man coming. He can do us no harm."

As the approaching figure drew near, it was seen to be that of an Indian
on horseback. He rode carelessly at a jog-trot.

"It looks like Okematan!" said Dechamp, glancing at his companion in
surprise.

"It iss Okematan," returned Fergus.

Before another word could be spoken, a shot was heard in the camp, and
horse and man were seen to roll upon the ground. The latter rose
immediately, but the horse lay stiff--evidently shot dead. For a few
seconds profound silence followed the incident, as if men were too much
taken by surprise to think and act. Then, when the dismounted Indian
was seen to walk leisurely, as if unhurt, towards them, there was a
hubbub in the camp, while men, women, and boys ran towards the spot
whence the shot seemed to have been fired, but no one was to be found
there. Only a very faint puff of smoke overhead told where the marksman
had stood. It had been a well-chosen spot, where a low bush or two
mingled with several carts that had been rather carelessly drawn up, and
several horses had been picketed together. These had afforded
concealment enough for at least a few moments.

The tent of La Certe was not far from this corner. At the time the shot
was heard, the self-indulgent half-breed was inside, recumbent on his
back in the enjoyment of a pipe.

"That's odd," he said to Slowfoot, who was seated opposite to her lord
scraping the remnants of something out of a tin kettle with the point of
a scalping-knife. "Somebody's gun gone off by accident, I suppose. I
hear some one at our fire. Look out, Slowfoot, and ask what has
happened."

Slowfoot finished the scraping of the kettle before obeying; then lifted
the curtain that closed the opening of their tent, and peeped out.

"It is Kateegoose--loading his gun, I think."

La Certe got up, with a sigh of regret at the necessity for exertion,
and, lifting the curtain-door, stepped out.

"What are they firing at, Kateegoose?"

The Indian did not know. Some one, he thought, might have let off his
gun by accident. He thought it wise, however, to be ready, and had just
sent the ramrod down the barrel of his gun to make sure that it was
loaded with ball. To make still surer that all was ready, the Indian
shook the priming out of the pan of his gun, wiped it, and re-