scot tribe, and acquainted with "Jim Albert," but never a word
regarding the reason for being in that vicinity.

There had been no scarcity of food; the forest teemed with game, and if
the labourers fancied deer, bear or birds, it was only necessary to go
a short distance from the encampment in order to get it.

Almost unconsciously Walter had explained to his assistant what it was
he hoped to do. There had been many times when it seemed positively
necessary he should speak with some one, and to the silent Indian the
boy talked freely. It was as if thinking aloud, because no reply was
made unless one was absolutely required; and it is quite possible the
young messenger would have been greatly surprised had some one been
there to tell him he had confided more fully in Sewatis than in any
other person except his mother.

More than once had Walter suggested that there was no reason why the
Indian should remain if he had business elsewhere.

"I suppose you think because I pulled you from under that tree you must
stay here and work, but it is all a mistake. You have already repaid me
ten-fold, and I don't want you to believe there is any necessity of
stopping with me."

"Me wait," Sewatis would say, whenever the conversation touched upon
this subject, and by the end of a week Walter would have felt decidedly
lonely without his silent companion.

"There's one thing about it," the boy said once, when the Indian had
refused to leave him, "while you are here I feel as if I could learn at
any time how matters are at home. It wouldn't be much of a task for you
to go into Portsmouth?"

Sewatis made a gesture which signified that such a journey would be as
nothing.

"I think you had better go and see my mother presently. Of course she
won't be worrying about me, for she knows I am able to take care of
myself; but at the same time it will give her some satisfaction to know
what I am doing. You could find my mother?"

Sewatis nodded.

"And it wouldn't be too hard work for you to tell her what we have
done."

Another nod, and something very like a smile on the silent Indian's
lips.

"If you don't open your mouth to her any oftener than you do to me, you
might stay on the farm a year without her knowing what we have been
doing."

"I tell all; make heap much talk."

"Then we'll start you off about day after to-morrow. How long would you
want for the journey?"

"Go to-day, back to-morrow."

"Of course you understand