llar
bottom. Taking up some of the litter with which it was covered, he
gently scraped the fresh sand away until he came to litter again.
Patiently and carefully then he removed the top litter from a wide
space, noticing from which direction the sand had been thrown, and in
a moment he was standing where the heap had been, which Charlie and
Bub had shovelled away. Stooping down now, he saw where the earth had
been fretted by the stone as it had been pulled out and in; then he
placed his ear to the ground, and listened intently; instantly he
glided from the cellar, and stood with folded arms before Captain
Manly.

"Well, what luck?" asked the captain.

"Long Hair find pappoose."

There was a general excitement at this, and a number arose, as if
eager to follow the captain and the Indian; but Long Hair stirred not,
saying, angrily,--

"Too much sojer; scare pappoose."

"That is sensible," said the captain; "you and I will go alone, Long
Hair."

The Indian led him at once to the place in the wall where Bub was
concealed.

"Pappoose in dere," said the Indian, pointing to the stone. "Take
stone out."

The captain drew it forth, got down on his hands and knees, and peeped
in, and saw Bub's bright eyes looking into his; and, taking hold of
Bub's chubby hand, he said, soothingly,--for Bub now began to cry,--

"Don't be afraid, my little fellow; we are all your friends, and have
come to take you to your mother."

"Won't Injun kill me?" asked Bub, glancing apprehensively at Long
Hair.

"No," said the officer; "it's Long Hair; he came to keep the bad
Indians from killing you."

When Captain Manly appeared with Bub in his arms, the air was rent
with the joyful shouts of the soldiers; and Bub suddenly found himself
a hero, as he was borne about and caressed by them--a joy that was
suddenly intensified to a wild pitch of excitement, as word was
brought that dear, brave, romantic Charlie had revived. He was not
dead. Aroused by the shouts of the soldiers over Bub's appearance, he
had opened his eyes, and, imagining that the Indians were assailing
the cabin, murmured, in a clear, distinct voice,--

"Pull the string, Bub!"

CHAPTER XXII.

TOM AND THE MONEY-LENDER.

Mr. Cowles--farmer, grocer, postmaster, and money-lender--drew his
chair to the fire. The large, old-fashioned stove had an open front,
and it was pleasant, on such a piercing day, to see the flames leap,
and hear the wood crackle, and sit in