the death of
both, but said that he had kept watch of the Winnebagos until morning,
when he saw them start for the camp in the mountains. He learned from
their signaling that they had other warriors in the neighborhood, and
there could be no doubt that an attack was intended upon the Hunters of
the Ozark. Nevertheless the Shawanoe kept in their vicinity, until they
approached the open prairie of which mention has been make. Then he
decided to pass them and join his young friends.

Feeling no doubt that the latter were following the right trail (several
examinations which he made satisfied him that they were doing so), he
left it altogether, and took a shorter route across the country. He was
so familiar with it that he could easily do this. His intention was to
strike the main path again at the crossing, where they had such a narrow
escape from the cyclone; but he calculated that by nightfall they would
be a considerable distance beyond, and he wished to test their
watchfulness when left to themselves. So he came back to the trail about
half way between that point and the creek which they had crossed by
means of the canoe. He saw from an examination of the ground that he was
ahead of them, so he sauntered forward, firing off his gun where a turn
in the path made it seem to come from one side instead of in front of
them. He did this as he explained with a view of warning them to keep
their eyes open. It soon began growing dark and he kept on until he
reached the stream, where he decided to wait and see what they would do.

He was as surprised as they when they brought forth the little canoe and
pushed themselves across by means of the pole which Fred Linden himself
cut. He followed them, easily wading the stream. After that he indulged
in a little diversion with which you are familiar.

"Wasn't it strange, Deerfoot," said Fred, "that we should have found
that canoe?"

He nodded his head to signify that he thought it was.

"Have you any idea how it got there?"

"He who owned the boat hid it under the bushes."

"But there are no Indian villages within a great many miles of this
place--is that not so?"

He gave another affirmative nod.

"Have you any idea of who the owner can be?"

A third affirmative nod followed.

"Who is he?" asked Fred in astonishment.

"Deerfoot."

"What! Does that little canoe belong to _you_?"

"Deerfoot made it and hid it under the bushes: why did not my brothers
use the paddle?"