ould be
choked up by thorns, not even the Wolf himself could tell.

The young warrior showed his convictions by flinging some wood on the
fire, so that its blaze filled the cavern, and preparing for sleep. He
first sat down and pulled out the knife of the Wolf, whose blade took on
an additional gleam from the cleansing it had received in being forced
into the flinty earth. He examined it with no little curiosity, though
it was similar to his own.

A glance, however, showed that it was an inch or two longer. It was
straight and oval-shaped, the blade not quite two inches wide, with a
handle that had been cut from a deer's horn and fitted with no slight
skill. Whether it was the product of aboriginal ingenuity or was the
work of some cutler of the Caucasian race could only be guessed, the
matter really not being worth the trouble of guessing. Its two edges and
the point were very sharp. Deerfoot having laid aside his gun, grasped
the blade in his left hand and circled it through the air like a
swordsman at play. He was so pleased with it that he decided to keep it.
He would not throw away the one that had served him so well, but would
present it to Fred Linden, while he retained the one with which he was
sure he could do better work.

It was singular that while the Shawanoe was turning the weapon over in
his hand, and examining it with so much interest, that the occasion for
its immediate use should come, but so it was.

He was on the point of shoving it in behind his belt and lying down to
sleep, when a movement of the bushes outside was heard. It was so
distinct indeed that he knew it was not caused by a person.

The rustling was accompanied by a scratching sound and low growl.
Turning his head, he saw an immense wolf standing at the entrance of the
cavern, his whole figure revealed in the firelight. With his jaws parted
and his form erect, he was a formidable creature, before which almost
any one would have recoiled. He would have advanced straight to an
attack upon the young warrior but for the fire which partly interposed.
Even as it was, he seemed making ready to leap at the throat of the
youth, who was sitting on the blanket, looking coolly at him.

It would have been the easiest matter in the world for Deerfoot to catch
up his gun and shoot him dead, but he chose to do otherwise. Drawing one
of the embers forth by the end that was not burning, he held it before
him in his right hand, and, grasping the knife