ing, the probabilities were that if he came
back again, it would be without his scalp.

The eagerness with which the Wolf accepted this task, the moment he
found that he was to have a companion, showed that he was an admirable
representative of the average Indian: gratitude to him was a vice rather
than a virtue.

The expression on the face of Deerfoot showed that all forbearance was
ended. He had twice spared the ingrate: he would do so no more.

Had the Wolf told his leader that the mercy of Deerfoot had touched his
heart, so that his arm could never more be raised in anger against him,
but that he would seek the scalps of the hunters at the base of the
mountains, the Shawanoe would have felt an admiration for him. Had he
sought out Deerfoot and asked for the return of his weapons (though that
would have been very unlike his race), Deerfoot would have restored them
to him. But now, as it was, when they should meet it would be as mortal
enemies.

Nothing showed the vicious ingratitude of the Wolf more vividly than the
fact that instead of waiting for the morning before entering upon his
wicked enterprise, he started within three minutes after Black Bear, the
chieftain, finished his little speech. The sachem picked up his own
rifle from where it leaned against the tree and handed it to him, while
Wau-ko-mia-tan stood at the other end of the group, until the warrior,
his ugly face glowing like that of a demon, stepped to his side. Then
the two, without a word or motion like a farewell, turned away and
vanished in the gloom of the wood.

They had not taken a dozen steps, when Deerfoot glided from behind the
tree and passed after them, as if he were the shadow thrown out by the
light of the camp-fire. The expression on his face was such as would
have hushed Fred Linden and Terry Clark to awed silence could they have
seen it.

The two Winnebagos did not come directly back to the trail, but fell
into it at almost the precise point where Deerfoot had led his two
friends. They stopped a few minutes and talked in their low, guttural
tones, none of which was understood by the Shawanoe, who listened with
the closest attention.

There was considerable distance at that time between the warriors and
Fred and Terry, who had set out with the ambition to keep up their
traveling through the entire night. The Winnebagos did not wait long,
when they moved on at their usual pace.

Less than a mile from the camp, the warriors agai