use throughout our country; but it is necessary
that the reader should bear them in mind in order to understand the
manner in which the missionary proposed to accomplish this result.
His plan was to strike the bell when in the proper position, and
_glance the bullet into the head of the savage_!

The desperate nature of this expedient will be seen at once. Should
the gun be discharged when the flat side of the bell was turned toward
him, the ball would pass through, and most probably kill his child
without endangering the life of the Indian. If it struck the narrow
side, it accomplished neither harm nor good; while, if fired at the
precise moment, and still aimed but an inch too low, the bell would
most likely be perforated. Consequently, it was requisite that the
rifle be discharged at the precise instant of time when the signal
brass was in the correct position, and that the aim should be
infallibly true.

All this Richter realized only too painfully; but, uttering an inward
prayer, he raised his rifle with a nerve that knew no faltering or
fear, holding it pointed until the critical moment should arrive. That
moment would be when the string was wound up, and was turning, to
unwind. Then, as it was almost stationary, he fired.

No sound or outcry betrayed the result; but, clubbing his rifle, the
father bounded forward, over the trees, to the spot where the Indian
was crouching. There he saw him in his death-struggle upon the ground
the bell still held fast in his hand. In that critical moment, Harvey
Richter could not forbear glancing at it. Its top was indented, and
sprinkled with white by the glancing passage of the lead. The blood,
oozing down the face of the savage, plainly showed how unerringly true
had been the aim.

Something in the upward look of the dying man startled the missionary.

"Harvey Richter--don't you know me?" he gasped.

[Illustration: "Harvey Richter--don't you know me?" he gasped.]

"I know you as a man who has sought to do me a wrong that only a fiend
could have perpetrated. Great Heaven! Can it be? Is this you, Brazey
Davis?"

"Yes; but you've finished me, so there isn't much left."

"Are you the man, Brazey, who has haunted me ever since we came in
this country? Are you the person who carried away poor, dear Cora?"

"Yes--yes!" answered the man, with fainting weariness.

Such, indeed, was the case. The strange hunter and the Indian known
as Mahogany were one and the same person.