nd the range of human attainment; but he did swim the distance
with only a single rise if such it may be termed when the tip of his
nose gently came up long enough to empty his lungs of their hot air, and
take in another draught of the life-giving element. That he should do
this under the eyes, as may be said, of two watchers, without their
detection, was not the least remarkable part of his performance.

Jack would have given much had he and Hay-uta possessed the power of
talking to each other. The Indian was one of the best warriors of his
tribe, and had formed a peculiar affection for the young Shawanoe. More
than likely he held some well-founded suspicions of the real reason
which led Deerfoot to make his curious trip across the river, and
between the two the truth might be brought out.

Deerfoot having disappeared, it was idle to watch the river any longer,
and the two withdrew a step or two and sat on the ground, there to await
the Shawanoe.

"I don't suppose I shall have time to teach him the English language,"
thought Jack, surveying his companion, who lolled on the ground as
though he meant to put in an hour or two of sleep; "and I'm sure he
won't be able to make much headway with me. I spent some weeks visiting
the Sauks (that is on their invitation), and never was able to get hold
of more than a dozen or so of their outlandish words, but there isn't
one of them that can be turned to account just now. So I'll wait till
Deerfoot tells the story for himself."

Probably twenty minutes had gone by, when the stillness was broken by
the report of a gun. It was from the other shore, and sounded so faint
that it must have been fully half a mile inland. Hay-uta started up, and
looking sharply at Jack, raised his hand for him to keep silent. No need
of that, for the youth was listening as well as he. In the course of a
few minutes Hay-uta rose and went to the river shore, where he stayed
some time, peering out over the surface, but he came back without having
seen any thing unusual, nor did the two hear another sound of a gun.

"It would be strange," thought Jack Carleton, "if that rifle killed
Deerfoot; the tiniest bullet, if rightly aimed, will do it, and great as
is his skill it can not protect him against treachery. As mother says,
his time will come sooner or later, but none of us can tell when,
anymore than we can name the hour appointed for us to die."

Except for the slight disturbance named, the Sauk would