own experience.

"How thim spalpeens could be ridin', whin all the rist are afoot, is
somethin' that puzzles me," said he, after they had walked some distance
further; "can't ye give some explanation that will relaave me mind,
Fred?"

"I can certainly know no more about it than you do."

"Didn't ye obsarve them with particularity?"

"I can't say that I did; they were rather small, tough-looking; two were
bay in color, while one was black: I noticed the black one more than the
others, because the Indian that I hit was riding on him; I remember that
he had a star in his forehead."

"Who? The Winnebago?"

"You know well enough that I meant the horse----"

Fred Linden stopped short, and turned his white, scared face upon his
friend. He had just awakened to an astounding fact.

"What's the matter, Fred? Are ye ill?"

"My gracious! why didn't I think of that before? Those three horses
belong to father, Mr. Hardin and Mr. Bowlby."

"Are ye sure of the same?"

"Why, of course; I can't understand why I did not notice it the moment I
saw them!"

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE CANOE.

It certainly was remarkable that when Fred Linden was watching the three
Winnebagos so closely, and when, as I have said, he noticed more than
one trifling matter, that he failed to recognize the animals they were
riding. All three were familiar to him, and the one he had spoken of as
being darker in color than the others, and as having a star in his
forehead, was the identical animal owned by his father. Fred, himself,
had ridden him more than once.

It should be said, however, that they were the pack-horses, which even
when put to their best paces, could not make good speed. Nevertheless,
they were of great value to the hunters.

The first conviction of the lad on awaking to the alarming fact, was
that his father and the other two men had been killed by the
Winnebagos. The thought overcame him so that he leaned against the
nearest tree and was on the point of fainting.

"They are all dead, Terry--I know it--we may as well give up, and try to
reach home."

Terry was agitated, but not so much so as his friend.

"Why, my dear boy, it's not so bad as _that_," he said feelingly; "do ye
not moind that whin the gintlemen go to trappin' and huntin' they turn
the horses loose to graze? The spalpeens have coom along and run off
with the same."

"Do you think so?" asked Fred, looking up yearningly for the grain of
comfort that his co