smooth round ball, and as it fell touched what seemed an ear,
and then a human nose.

"Merciful God! 't is a man!" I gasped, in astonishment and yet relief,
as I closed upon his throat, madly determined to shut off his wind
before he could give alarm.

"Cuss the luck!" he gasped hoarsely, and I let go of him, scarcely able
to ejaculate in my intense surprise at that familiar voice.

"Burns? For Heaven's sake, Burns! can this indeed be you?"

For an instant he did not speak, doubtless as greatly perplexed as I at
the strange situation.

"If ye 're Injun," he ventured at last gravely, "then I 'm a bloody
ghost; but if by any chance ye 're the lad, Wayland, which yer voice
sounds like, then it's Ol' Tom Burns as ye 're a-maulin' 'round, which
seems ter be yer specialty,--a-jumpin' on unoffensive settlers in the
dark, an' a-chokin' the life outer them."

The growling tone of his voice was growing querulous, and it was
evident that his temper, never quite childlike, had not been greatly
improved by his late experiences as an Indian captive.

"But Burns, old friend!" I persisted heartily, my courage returned once
more, "it was surely enough to stir any man to violence to encounter
such a thing in the dark! What in Heaven's name has happened to leave
you with such a poll? What has become of your hair and beard? Is
their loss a part of Indian torture?"

There was a low chuckle in the darkness, as if the old rascal were
laughing to himself.

"Injun nuthin!" he returned with vehemence. "Thet 's jist my way of
sarcumventin' the bloody varmints. I shaved the hull blame thing soon
as ever they let me loose, an' then played loony, till thar ain't no
Injun 'long the shore as 'd tech me fer all the wampum in the Illini
country. 'T ain't the fust time I saved my scalp by some sech dern
trick. I tell ye, it 's easy 'nough ter beat Injuns if ye only know
how. By snakes! I 'm sacred, I am,--specially teched by the Great
Spirit. I tell ye, ter be real loony is dern nigh as good in an Injun
camp as ter hev red hair like thet thar little Sister Celeste with the
Pottawattomies. She knows her business, you bet; an' so does Ol' Burns
know hisn!"

His mention of her name instantly recalled me to the little group
waiting above us, and doubtless already worried at my prolonged absence.

"Burns," I interrupted, "this is no time for reminiscences. I am here
seeking some means of escape out of this place of horror. What were