ow progress was made in his crippled condition that
the day was well gone before he reached Barwell.

There he was startled to learn that his children had started homeward
early in the day, and were still absent. He set about organizing a
rescue party at once. Fortunately, Nat Trumbull and several of his
rangers were present, and they eagerly gave their help. Within half an
hour after the father received the alarming tidings Trumbull was
cantering southward with a dozen tried men and true, and among them was
Archibald Clarendon himself.

Although the escape of the three parties from the beleaguered cabin may
strike you as wonderful, yet, after all, there was nothing very
remarkable in it.

Red Feather would have forgotten his lifelong training, had he failed to
see and take instant advantage of the providential diversion when the
Sioux, in the gathering darkness, made all haste to the top of the hill
to learn about the horsemen approaching from the north.

Had the Sioux suspected that the brain of one of their shrewdest chiefs
was helping the boy and girl, they would have been far more vigilant;
but, as it was, they must have believed that nothing could draw the lad
outside of his shelter until the appearance of his friends.

Red Feather was standing as before at one of the upper windows when the
stampede took place to the crest of the hill. He read its meaning, and
saw his golden opportunity.

"Now we go," he said in an undertone; "me carry pappoose (child)--you
come 'long--put blanket round--den look like Indian."

There was another reason for using the blanket; the air was cold enough
to require it.

Melville was quick to catch the idea, and, whipping a quilt from the
bed, he gathered it about his shoulders, so that it came almost to his
crown. His straw hat would have been too conspicuous, and he held that
in front of his breast, under the blanket, to be put in its proper place
again when it should become safe to do so.

"I'm ready," he said, standing erect, and looking at Red Feather as well
as he could in the gloom.

"Me too."

The chief had lifted Dot in his arms, and he covered her with his thick
blanket, doing so with such skill that hardly any one would have
suspected the nature of the precious burden he carried next to his
heart.

Not a minute was lost. Red Feather passed down the steps, paused in
front of the door, and waited for Melville to unfasten it. The youth
donned his hat, flung aside