ooked at them several minutes, noticing as he had done before,
with childish wonder, how long it took the sound caused by the blows to
reach him. When one of the choppers stopped to breathe and leaned on his
axe, the sound of two blows came to the listener, and when he resumed
work, the youth saw him in the act of striking the third time before the
sound was heard.

The scene was one of activity and industry. Even the children seemed to
have work instead of play to occupy them. The women, as a matter of
course, were among the busiest, and rarely did one of them appear at the
door of her cabin. When she did so, it was only for a very brief while.

Deerfoot was looking fixedly at one of the houses near the middle of the
settlement, when a squatty figure, with a conical hat, a heavy cane, and
smoking a pipe, came out and walked slowly toward a cabin only a short
distance off. The Indian smiled in his momentary, shadowy fashion when
he recognized Jacob Relstaub, whom he had frightened almost out of his
wits a week before. No doubt the German had told the incident many
times afterward, and would always insist he escaped by a veritable
hair's breadth.

But Deerfoot was troubled in mind, for among all whom he saw he
recognized neither Jack Carleton nor Otto Relstaub. It was not likely
that, if they had returned from their hunt, both would continue
invisible very long; but when minute after minute passed without showing
either, his heart sank.

The Shawanoe knew a scene would be probable if Jacob Relstaub caught
sight of him, so he avoided the wrathful German. The appearance of the
handsome warrior moving among the cabins, naturally awakened some
interest. Men and children looked at him as he went by, and several of
the latter followed him. Deerfoot saluted all whose eyes met his,
calling out: "Good day; how is my brother?" in as excellent English as
any of them could have employed.

The Indian, it may be supposed, was known to nearly every one by
reputation. Most of the settlers had heard of his exploits when they and
he lived in Kentucky; they knew he guided Otto Relstaub and Jack
Carleton on their perilous journey from the Dark and Bloody Ground into
Louisiana; they were aware, too, that he could read and write, and was
one of the most sagacious and valuable friends the settlers ever had or
could have. The story which Jacob Relstaub told was therefore received
with much doubt, and no one who listened felt any distrust o