ger.

Having played a part so long, he seemed to "go all to pieces", and
dashed under the limbs and among the trunks like a terrified deer.

This panic, however, was soon over, and he came to an abrupt stop when
only a short distance away. Standing a second or two, as if in deep
thought, he turned, and began stealing toward the narrow open space
where he had stood a few minutes before, with bowed head, while he
chanted his death song. His movement was noiseless, and he speedily
peered from among the trees upon the forms of the Shawanoe and Sauk, who
were in the act of moving off. They were in plain sight, and the swarthy
countenance gleamed, as, carefully muffling the sound of the hammer, he
drew it back and brought the rifle to his shoulder.

The distance was short and he could not mistake his aim. Though his life
had just been spared by the couple, he fairly held his breath in his
eagerness to take their lives. Could he have done so, he would have
waited till they were in range, in order that he might bring both low.

But only a moment elapsed, after raising his rifle, when he pressed the
trigger.

The dull click of the flint was followed by a whirring flash, as the
powder vanished in a white puff, but there was no report. Deerfoot,
while carrying the weapon, had quietly withdrawn the charge, leaving the
priming, however, in the pan. He knew just how far it is safe to trust
the average American Indian.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE TWINKLE OF A CAMP-FIRE.

Slight as was the noise made by the flashing of the powder, Deerfoot not
only heard it, but knew what it meant. He was so angered that he bounded
back among the trees like a tiger leaping upon the hunter that has
wounded him. He grasped his knife and sought the treacherous Pawnee,
with a fierceness that seemed could not be denied.

Hay-uta stepped softly in the other direction, where he was under the
shadow of the trees, and waited for events to develop before doing any
thing further.

In the depth of the woods where the vegetation was dense, the darkness
was impenetrable. Keen as were the eyes of the Shawanoe, they were not
those of the owl or cat, and his enemy was wise enough to remain still.
So long as he did so, he was in no danger.

Had Deerfoot been able to find the traitor, he would have made short
work with him, but suspecting what he was doing, or rather what he was
not doing, he did not tarry. He withdrew so cautiously that no
straggling ray o