E SIGNS OF THIS VISIT--MY TERRIBLE
SOLITUDE--MORE WOLVES AND MORE INDIANS--I PREPARE A BANQUET FOR THEM--
THE SUSPICIONS OF MY GUESTS AROUSED--THE UNPLEASANT TERMINATION TO OUR
FEAST.

Obed and I were not easily taken by surprise. Our hands instinctively
clutched our rifles, and in a moment the breast of the Indian was
covered by their muzzles. The eye of the red-skin did not quail--not a
limb trembled. He gazed on us calmly, and his hand continued to hold
aside the skin which formed the door of our tent, while he spoke a few
words in a low, quiet voice. I did not understand them, but Obed did.

"Don't fire, Dick," said Obed; "he is a Delaware, a friend to the white
men. Come in, friend Delaware, take your seat by our fire, and tell us
what has brought you here," continued Obed, addressing the Indian.

The Delaware, letting drop the skin door, came in, and, stirring up the
embers of our almost extinguished fire, sat himself down on a log of
wood placed before it. He spoke a jargon which he thought was English,
and which both Obed and I understood, but which I cannot now repeat, any
more than I could convey an idea of the deep guttural tones of his
voice. They seemed to come from the very depths of his inside.

"I travel alone," said the red-skin. "I have a long journey to perform,
to carry a letter I have undertaken to deliver at Fort Grattan. I was
beginning to despair of accomplishing it, for my powder has been
destroyed, and thus food was difficult to obtain. When I first saw the
smoke of your fire, I thought it might come from the wigwams of some
Pawnees, and my heart bounded when I saw from its appearance that your
tent must belong to white men." From this hint given, Obed at once
placed a supply of food before the Indian, who did ample justice to it.
We then lighted our pipes, and all three sat smoking over the fire. The
Delaware urgently advised us not to attempt to spend the approaching
winter in that place, but to accompany him to the fort. I saw the
soundness of his council, but assured him that I could not attempt to
walk half a dozen miles, much less could I hope to make so long a
journey.

"Then it is better that one should come and bring back succour to the
other than that both should perish," urged the Delaware. To this I
agreed, and told Obed he must go. He had been ready to go alone when
the risk was greater; but now he did not like to leave me. I met all
his arguments, and telling