primed.
Then he laid the weapon down by his side, and resumed the pipe which he
had apparently laid down to enable him to perform these operations more
conveniently, and, at the same time, with more safety.

At that moment Dechamp walked smartly towards the fire in front of La
Certe's tent.

"Does Kateegoose know who fired that shot?" he asked with a keen glance,
for his suspicions had been aroused.

"Some one over there," answered the Indian languidly, as he pointed in
the right direction.

"It does not need a medicine-man to tell me that," said Dechamp,
sternly. "I heard the shot, and saw the smoke. Have you any idea who
fired it, La Certe?"

"I have not," replied the half-breed. "I was lying in my tent when I
heard it. Kateegoose was smoking beside the fire. We both thought it
was an accident, or some one trying his gun, till we heard the shouting
and running. Then I jumped up, seized my gun, and sprang out to see
what it was all about. I found Kateegoose equally on the _qui vive_.
He was shoving his ramrod down to make sure his gun was loaded when you
came up. What is it all about?"

"Only that the horse of Okematan has been shot under him by some one,
and that there is a would-be murderer in the camp."

"Okematan! Has the traitor ventured to return?" exclaimed Kateegoose,
with an expression of surprise that was very unusual in an Indian.

"Ay, he has ventured," responded Dechamp, "and some one has ventured to
fire at him with intent to kill. By good luck he was a bad shot. He
missed the man, though he hit and killed the horse. But I shall find
the rascal out before long--he may depend on that!"

So saying, the commandant left the spot.

"Do you know anything about this?" asked La Certe, turning full on the
Indian.

"Kateegoose is not a medicine-man. He cannot be in two places at once.
He knows nothing."

For a sly man La Certe was wonderfully credulous. He believed the
Indian, and, returning to his tent, lay down again to finish the
interrupted pipe.

"Kateegoose was trying his gun to see if it was loaded," he said to his
better half.

"That's a lie," returned Slowfoot, with that straightforward simplicity
of diction for which she was famous.

"Indeed! What, then, was he doing, my Slowfoot?"

"He was _loading_ his gun--not trying it."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I sure that our little child loves tobacco?"

"Well, I suppose you are. At any rate, the child often asks you for a
pi