ng that the present rest was grateful.
He assumed an easy posture, half reclining on his blanket, and,
supporting the upper part of his body on one elbow, he drew out his
Bible and held it so that the firelight fell on the printed page.

He read for a full hour. Many of the passages were familiar to him, and
he could repeat them--as he often did when riding or walking
alone--without glancing within the volume. He read some of the chapters
a second and third time, dwelling on certain verses, as if to make sure
he lost nothing of their wonderful significance and beauty. Finally, he
closed the book and placed it back in its usual resting place.

The fire was sinking and he flung more wood on the blaze. Then moving
beyond the circle of light, he gathered his blanket about his
shoulders, and, finding his ankle free from pain, leaned back against
the face of the rock and gave himself over to meditation upon the
fascinating and yet awesome mysteries of the Word and of the Author of
them all.

Everything favored the sweet, solemn reverie. He was utterly alone, so
far as any of his kind was concerned. He could hear the soft impact of
Whirlwind's hoof now and then as he shifted his position and continued
nibbling the grass. The night wind sighed around the massive rock,
fanning the blaze, and sometimes rising to a moan as it careered upward
and swirled about the stupendous peaks towering near at hand. Far aloft
he caught the faint honk of the wild geese hurrying southward from the
Arctic winter that would soon lock the world in its rigid fetters. The
dismal howl of a mountain wolf sounded far off in the solitude and
seemed to linger tremblingly in the air. The silence was all the more
impressive because of these disturbances which belonged to the time and
place.

Leaning back against the rugged rock, in which a slight warmth was
perceptible from the contact farther away with the blaze, Deerfoot's
thoughts drifted to other places, scenes and persons. He recalled his
rambles with Ned Preston, Jo Springer, Jim Turner and the quaint negro
youth known as "Blossom," when all passed through many stirring
experiences, as you learned long since in the "Boy Pioneer Series;" and
of Jack Carleton and Otto Relstaub in the "Log Cabin" stories. Fred
Linden and Terry Clark were to come later.

Deerfoot had known many men who later gained a place in history. You
will recall the high esteem in which he was held by General W. H.
Harrison, Gov