for a time, at least, the difficulty was much less than they
expected. The path, though it continued to lead over rough places and
around obstructions, sometimes up-hill and sometimes down, was still so
clearly marked that Fred Linden went forward with scarcely a halt or any
hesitation.

Though there are men who have walked their five and six hundred miles
with little rest on the road, it is a severe task for any one to keep it
up through an entire day and night, as you can soon become convinced by
making the experiment; but Fred and Terry were sturdy, strong-limbed
fellows, born and bred on the frontier, who were capable of standing a
great deal. When, therefore, they meant to astonish Deerfoot by their
progress during the night, they felt no distrust of their ability in
that direction.

There was no reason why they should put any restraint on themselves, and
they talked quite cheerily, Terry indulging now and then in some of his
quaint remarks. But a tired boy does not feel like keeping up a lively
conversation for any length of time, and so it came about that after
awhile they walked steadily forward, for miles at a time, without
exchanging more than a few syllables. Terry could see the figure of his
friend with his rifle over his shoulder always a few feet in front,
there being just enough light in the gloom to keep his form in sight,
while Fred heard the steady tramp, tramp behind him, sometimes keeping
pace with his own and sometimes falling "out of step."

"Helloa! this is too bad!" suddenly exclaimed Fred, coming to an abrupt
halt; "I guess this ends our tramp for to-night."

CHAPTER XXIII.

AN INFURIATE SHAWANOE.

WITH the departure of Fred and Terry, Deerfoot felt as though he had
flung off a blanket that had been wrapped about his shoulders: his arms
were now free and he could use them at will.

He shrewdly suspected that his young friends would fancy they had been
put upon their mettle, and would, therefore, exert themselves to their
fullest to meet his expectations. He was glad it was so, and he would
have been much better pleased could he have known they were in the cabin
at the foot of the mountains, or, better still, safe at their home in
Greville.

Deerfoot now stealthily approached as close to the camp-fire as was
safe. He screened his body behind a tree, but he was nigh enough to
catch every word that was said in an ordinary tone, and he understood
the Winnebago tongue well enough to