rior must have thought it strange to be addressed in that
fashion, and he must have noticed, too, the smile and flitting glances
of his victim, but he could not have suspected the meaning of either, or
he would have faced the other way.

With a partially suppressed shout, he stooped, as if gathering his
muscles, and then, like a lion on the edge of a chasm, he made a
terrific bound at the captive.

But he didn't reach him. A quick blow of the upraised arm sent his knife
spinning in the darkness, and a dexterous flirt of Deerfoot's moccasin
in front of the foot of the Indian, flung him headlong, after the manner
of a beginner taking a header from his bicycle. His discomfiture was
more complete than that of Lone Bear while pursuing the Shawanoe, for
not only was he thrown forward with great violence, but (as was the case
with Hay-uta, when he attacked Deerfoot), the knife was knocked from his
grasp, by a blow so cleverly given that it seemed to have fractured his
forearm.

Using mild language again, it might be said that the warrior was
surprised. Whatever the cause of his overthrow, he could not mistake its
meaning; it notified him that he ought to leave the spot without any
tarrying. Fortunately, he had enough sense to do so. Despite the
stinging pain in his arm, he scrambled to his feet, glanced over his
shoulder, and seeing two strange Indians, darted off like a deer,
vanishing among the trees with a suddenness which, it is safe to say, he
never equaled before or afterward.

"What a good fellow you would be to figure in a story!" exclaimed the
delighted Jack Carleton, wringing the hand of Deerfoot, and feeling as
though he would like to fling his arms around his neck and embrace him.

The Shawanoe evidently was in good spirits, for his even white teeth
showed between his lips, and his handsome black eyes sparkled in the
firelight. He enjoyed the figure the Indian cut when charging upon his
captive.

"My brother speaks words which Deerfoot does not know."

"What I mean to say is, that you have such a way of turning up when
you're wanted very bad, that you're just the scamp to figure in a lot of
story books; I wonder whether some simpleton won't undertake to use you
that way. The only trouble will be that if he invents yarns about you,
he'll make a fizzle of it, and, if he tells the truth, he will hardly be
believed; but," added the youth, as if the mantle of prophecy had fallen
on him, "it will depend a good de