hide the exultation in his face. He was not forgotten in his world! His
friends were ready to risk their lives for him! His heart was leaping as
he looked through the dusk at the smoking camp fires, the dim huts and
tepees, and the shadowy figures that passed and repassed. He would soon be
leaving all that savage life. He never doubted it.

He came to his prison hut, went calmly inside, and a few minutes later,
the regular time being at hand, the door was fastened on the outside by
Red Eagle or some of his people. He might perhaps have forced the door in
the night, but he had not considered himself a skillful enough woodsman to
slip from the village unobserved, and accordingly he had waited. Now he
was very glad of his restraint.

Paul lay down on the couch of skins, but he was not seeking sleep. Instead
he was waiting patiently, with something of Indian stoicism. He saw
through the cracks in his hut the Indian fires, yet burning and smoking,
and the dim figures still passing and repassing. There was also the faint
hum to tell him that savage life did not yet sleep, and now and then a
mongrel cur barked. But all things end in time, and after a while these
noises ceased; even the cure barked no more, and the smoking fires sank
low.

The Indian village lay at peace, but Paul's heart throbbed with
expectation. Nor did it throb in vain. A muffled sound appeared in time at
his door. It was some one at work on the fastenings, and Paul listened
with every nerve a-quiver. Presently the noise ceased, a shaft of pale
night light showed, and then was gone. But the door had been opened, and
then closed, and some one was inside.

Paul waited without fear. He could barely see a dark, shapeless outline
within the dimness of his hut, but he was sure it was the figure of the
slouching warrior who had bumped against him. The man stood a moment or
two, seeking to pierce the dusk with his own eyes, and then he said in a
low voice:

"Paul! Paul! Is it you?"

"Yes," replied Paul, in the same guarded tone, "but I don't know who you
are."

The figure swayed a little and laughed low, but with much amusement.

"It 'pears to me that we are forgot purty soon," it said. "An' I've worked
hard fur a tired man."

Then Paul knew the familiar, whimsical tone. The light had burst upon him
all at once.

"Shif'less Sol!" he exclaimed.

"Jest me," said Sol; "an' ain't I about the purtiest Shawnee warrior you
ever saw? Why, Paul, I'm so good