was likely to be defeated
at the beginning.

"Let my brother open his eyes," said he, after a few words with the
Sauk, which, of course, were not intelligible to Jack Carleton, "the
Pawnees are not far."

"I will do my best to guard against surprise," replied the young
Kentuckian, "and with Hay-uta as my friend, I am sure we shall take care
of ourselves."

"Deerfoot cannot say when he will come back," added the warrior, looking
toward the river, as though expecting to catch sight of some clew among
the leaves and branches, "but he hopes to be with his friend before the
sun is overhead."

This was the only farewell uttered by the Shawanoe, who walked to the
undergrowth which lined the shore and overhung the water. He entered the
latter like a diving-bell, whose enormous weight causes it to sink
silently and swiftly to the bottom.

"Hay-uta, let's watch him," said Jack, moving carefully to the margin of
the river, from which they could peer out without detection. The Sauk
could comprehend the action of the boy, though not his words, and I am
warranted in saying that his curiosity was equal to that of his
companion, when he gazed through the leafy interstices upon the river.

The Shawanoe now gave an example of his amazing skill in the water, such
as Jack Carleton had never seen before. He remembered the dexterity
which he displayed in towing the canoe across the Mississippi, with Jack
and Otto in it, and with the Indians along shore blazing away with their
rifles; he had seen the youth disport himself in a way that no one else
could equal, but on none of these occasions were his achievements so
extraordinary as when he let himself into the river, passed under the
surface, and vanished from sight.

Jack Carleton had heard of his exploit in sinking to the bottom of the
Ohio in a large iron kettle let over the side of the flatboat, and of
his swimming to shore behind the canoe in which sat Tecumseh, but it now
looked to him as if he were passing the entire distance--more than a
hundred yards--beneath the surface.

"That can not be," said the lad to himself, when he reflected on the
time it must take to proceed that far; "no human being can hold his
breath long enough to go more than half the distance, and I don't
believe he can go even that far."

There was scarcely a zephyr stirring, so that the rapidly flowing river
was without wavelet or disturbance. As none of us is amphibious, the
most skillful swimmer must