t not ours, because they do not know of us."

Robert shuddered. These savages, like as not, would fall at midnight
upon some lone settlement, and his intense imagination depicted the
hideous scenes to follow.

"Come away," he whispered. "Since they don't know anything about us
we'll keep them in ignorance. I'm longing more than ever for my warm
bear cave."

They disappeared in the falling snow, which would soon hide their
trail here, as it had hidden it elsewhere, and left the lake behind
them, not stopping until they came to a deep and narrow gorge in the
mountains, so well sheltered by overhanging bushes that no snow fell
there. They raked up great quantities of dry leaves, after the usual
fashion, and spread their blankets upon them, poor enough quarters
save for the hardiest, but made endurable for them by custom and
intense weariness. Both fell asleep almost at once, and both awoke
about the same time far after dawn.

Robert moved his stiff fingers in his blanket and sat up, feeling cold
and dismal. Tayoga was sitting up also, and the two looked at each
other.

"In very truth those bear caves never seemed more inviting to me,"
said young Lennox, solemnly, "and yet I only see them from afar."

"Dagaeoga has fallen in love with bear caves," said the Onondaga, in
a whimsical tone. "The time is not so far back when he never talked
about them at all, and now words in their praise fall from his lips in
a stream."

"It's because I've experienced enlightenment, Tayoga. It is only in
the last two or three days that I've learned the vast superiority of a
cave to any other form of human habitation. Our remote ancestors lived
in them two or three hundred thousand years, and we've been living in
houses of wood or brick or stone only six or seven thousand years, I
suppose, and so the cave, if you judge by the length of time, is our
true home. Hence I'm filled with a just enthusiasm at the thought of
going back speedily to the good old ways and the good old days. It's
possible, Tayoga, that our remote grandfathers knew best."

"When Dagaeoga comes to his death bed, seventy or eighty years from
now, and the medicine man tells him but little more breath is left in
his body, what then do you think he will do?"

"What will I do, Tayoga?"

"You will say to the medicine man, 'Tell me exactly how long I have
to live,' and the medicine man will reply: 'Ten minutes, O Dagaeoga,
venerable chief and great orator.' Then you will