they arrived at
Birkenshaw's camp he declared that he wasn't at all badly hurt.

"Just leave me alone, boys," he said, "I don't want you ter make any
fuss over me. There's nothing serious the matter--a few bruises, a
sprained ankle, a kinder gen'ral shakin' up; that's all. I shall be
ready to go with the Express again before Jim Thurston, even now."

"No occasion ter worry any 'bout the Express, Kiddie," said Abe Harum,
massaging the injured ankle with embrocation. "I'm notionin' ter take
a spell at it myself fer a while, a kinder change for me, see?--good as
a holiday. Besides, thar's two individuals I'm anxious ter meet. One
of 'em's the rooster as palmed off that rotten saddle on you. The
other's Broken Feather. You'd a legitimate chance of puttin' his light
out, Kiddie. Nobody e'd have blamed you any if you'd aimed at a vital
section of his anatomy; but you let him off with little more'n a
scratch. And that ambush was all planned. Rube here's just hungerin'
an' thirstin' ter tell you all about Broken Feather's friendly call
along at your woodland cabin while he knew you was absent. Ain't that
so, Rube?"

"Yes," Rube answered, coming forward to Kiddie's side.

Rube then told the whole story of Broken Feather's surreptitious visit
to the forest clearing, of the discovery that it was he who shot the
poisoned arrow and of his threat that Kiddie would never come back.

"So you see, Kiddie," supplemented Abe Harum, "the skunk meant ter do
you in. When he quitted the clearin', 'fore the hound struck his
trail, he went right away ter put his rascally plan into operation. He
an' his braves lay in wait for you ter gallop along. As I remarked
before, it's a pity you didn't plant that bullet of yours where it
would sure be fatal. It's your way, I know. You'd sooner cripple than
kill. You show mercy even to a Injun--even to your deadliest enemy.
An' Broken Feather's your enemy. You're what's called hereditary
enemies, if I knows the meaning of the term."

"That's so, Abe," said Kiddie. "His father, Eye-of-the-Moon, shot my
mother dead. It was Eye-of-the-Moon who killed my father, Buckskin
Jack, in the Custer fight. On the other hand, it was my maternal
grandfather, Spotted Tail, who killed Eye-of-the-Moon in their duel on
horseback that I've so often told you about. And now it seems Broken
Feather and I are at enmity."

"Yes," put in Gideon Birkenshaw, "but I ain't figgerin' as Broken
Feather's tak