he sat down and began the game of which I told you at
the opening of this story.

Alice was left handed. So when she took position, she leaned over to the
right, supporting her body with that arm, while with the other hand she
tossed the little jagged pieces of stone aloft, snatching up the others,
and letting the one that was going up and down in the air drop into her
chubby palm.

She had been playing perhaps ten minutes, when she found someone was
watching her.

She did not see him at first, but heard a low, deep "Huh!" partly at one
side and partly behind her.

Instead of glancing around, she finished the turn of the game on which
she was engaged just then. That done, she clasped all the Jack Stones in
her hand, assumed the upright posture, and looked behind her.

"I thought it was you, Omas," she said with a merry laugh; "do you want
to play Jack Stones with me?"

If you could have seen the person whom she thus addressed, you would
have thought it a strange way of speaking.

He was an Indian warrior, belonging to the tribe of Delawares. Those who
knew about him said he was one of the fiercest red men that ever went
on the warpath. A few years before, there had been a massacre of the
settlers, and Omas was foremost among the Indians who swung the tomahawk
and fired his rifle at the white people.

He was tall, sinewy, active, and powerful. Three stained eagle feathers
were fastened on his crown in the long black hair, and his hunting
shirt, leggings, and moccasins were bright with different colored beads
and fringes. In the red sash which passed around his waist were thrust
a hunting knife and tomahawk, while one hand clasped a cumbersome
rifle, which, like all firearms of those times, was used with ramrod and
flintlock.

Omas would have had a rather pleasing face had he let it alone; but his
people love bright colors, and he was never seen without a lot of paint
daubed over it. This was made up of black, white, and yellow circles,
lines, and streaks that made him look frightful.

But Alice was not scared at all. She and Omas were old friends. Nearly
a year before, he stopped at their cabin one stormy night and asked
for something to eat. Mrs. Ripley gave him plenty of coarse brown, well
baked bread and cold meat, and allowed him to sleep on the floor until
morning.

Benjamin was rather shy of the fierce looking Delaware, but Alice took
to him at first. She brought him a basin of water, and asked him to