d lick the hands of its master, and
develop all the attractive characteristics of the domestic cat.

"We must have a puma-hunt," said the chief, "now--right away."

"Not to-day?" said the teacher.

"Yes," said the chief, "now--he eat your children. Find boy dead some day,
just like cow. He drop down from a tree on a papoose. Benjamin and I will
go hunt."

[Illustration: _The mountain lion._]

The two disappeared. For several days they did not return. But, one
morning, a party of Indians in hunting-gear came riding up to the
school-house, full of gay spirits and heroic pride. Behind them came
the old chief on foot, moving slowly, as though tired, and with him was
Benjamin.

The Indian boy had a brown skin of an animal on his shoulder--a raw hide
with very beautiful fur.

The old chief came into the school-room with an air of pride, and stood
for a few minutes silent before the master. His face, though wrinkled, was
really beautiful and noble, in the light of the happy intelligence that
awaited communication. He at last looked each pupil in the face and then
said:

"We have killed the puma. School no fear now."

He took the skin of the animal from Benjamin's shoulder, and held it up
before the eyes of all.

"Boston tilicum, who killed the animal?" he said.

"It was you?" asked the teacher.

"No--not me, not me, no!"

"The braves?"

"No--not the braves. No." The old chief paused, and then said:

"Boston tilicum, it was Benjamin. Treat him well. He is good to me--he
mean well. He likes you--he die for you. Tell the boys it was Benjamin."

He turned away slowly, with a bearing of pride. The Indian boy gave the
puma's skin to the master, and took his seat in silence. There was a
spirit in the strange scene that was touching, and the master's lip
quivered as he took the old chief's hand that bright morning, as a parting
sign of gratitude and good-will. He felt the innate brotherhood of all
human hearts, and returned to his desk happy in his calling and work; and
seeing that the natural rights of all men were secured; and that the human
heart has the same impulses everywhere, as he had never seen these truths
before.

That night Gretchen told the story of the puma to Mrs. Woods, who had
learned the leading incidents of it in the afternoon as she came to meet
the girl in the trail, on the way from school.

CHAPTER VII.

THE SMOKE-TALK.

One day in September Mrs. Woods was at work in her cabin,