pproaching, both men peered intently about them, but they were unable
to discover any signs of either the warrior or the animal that had
attacked him. When they advanced to the spot where the tree had been
uptorn by the roots they found an abundance of footprints of the bear
and also of the moccasined Indian, but that was all.

"They both got away," said Boone at last.

"Or ate each other up," suggested Peleg with a smile.

"We will look for Singing Susan. You lead the way, Peleg."

Wearied as Peleg was by his recent contest, he nevertheless responded
promptly, and in a brief time the hunters arrived at the border of the
stream near which Peleg had been compelled to drop his rifle. When he
had cast it from him he had tossed it into the nearby bushes, dimly
thinking that if by chance he should escape he might return and find the
weapon which he prized so highly. A part of the scout's teachings
already had taken effect in this forethought of his young comrade. To be
prepared for any emergency was an essential part of life in the woods.
As they drew near the spot, Peleg was thinking of the great lesson he
had learned from Boone. He ran to the bushes, pushed aside the brush and
drew forth his gun with some pride. A smile lighted the face of Boone as
he nodded his head in approval of the forethought of his young friend,
and advancing, he extended his hand to inspect the weapon.

"What happened to the gun?" he inquired, as he marked the condition of
the stock.

"I struck the skull of the Indian."

"'Twas a hard blow, son, and I have slight doubt the Indian's head is
aching."

"If it had not been for that, I should not be here to tell you about it
now."

"No one can say about that. You _are_ here, Peleg, and we must act upon
that which _is_ rather than upon what might have been. Indeed, I have
long since learned to accept my life with that understanding. I had
nothing to say about when I should come into the world, and I have as
little to say about when I shall leave it. The only part I can guide is
that which is in between. I can fix this stock," he added, "and soon we
shall have Susan singing again. We will push forward a little farther
and find some place where we can camp for the night. A good sleep will
do you more good than anything else, though first I must attend again to
that hand of yours."

Selecting a linen bandage, a small supply of which Boone always carried
with him on his expeditions, he gathered so