remark. It was his quiet way of forcing home the truth that
there is a bright speck in everything, if we only take the trouble to
look for it.

A meal was made from the supplies with which each had been provided, and
an hour or two later Haggis turned up with the pack-horse.

It was not considered necessary to pitch the tent that night, as a very
early start was proposed to be taken at the streak of dawn. So each lay
down as he was, with a sand-heap for a pillow, and soon the little camp
was fast asleep. They needed no rocking. Sleep came almost with the
closing of eyes.

As morning broke, Mackintosh was the first to waken. He quickly roused
the others, and a swift "eve-of-battle" meal was served out. The
business being ended, the pack-horse was once more loaded, and the
journey resumed toward Flood Creek, which was now only about five miles
distant.

The Dacotah camp was sighted some way off, and it may be imagined how
excited the lads felt when they found themselves practically at the end
of their journey.

But once there, what would be the result?

That was the question that was exercising the minds of both; and when
Bob gave it voice, the Scotsman smiled grimly.

"What'll happen? Well, no one can foresee the future, but I can imagine
it."

"And what do you imagine?" asked Bob.

"That there will be a pickle o' bother before all comes out right.
Superstition is no' that easy baulked; but if we ever have to fight for
it, don't think that the ancient Highland blood of the Mackintosh is
water in the veins of the clan."

"I hope it won't come to that," remarked Alf quietly, and the Highlander
rejoined--

"That's my hope too. But there's no telling. We've _got_ to conquer----"

"And conquer we shall!" added Bob, with determination.

On reaching the camp, the rescuers were met by a host of Indians, who
were all filled with curiosity regarding the strangers. The white men
looked around them, but no signs could they see of the captives.

Then Mackintosh recognised a friend in Swift Arrow.

"Ha, Nitchie!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand for the Indian to
grasp.

"It is pleasant for the eyes of Swift Arrow to see the Black Bear in the
camp of the Dacotahs," said the redskin as he returned the greeting.

"And it's good for him to look upon the face o a friend," said the
Scotsman. "I wish to speak with Mighty Hand. Where is he?"

"The chief of the Dacotahs is here," replied a voice from the crowd, and
t