Feather read the distrust in his face and manner. With a
deliberation that was not lacking in dignity, he walked slowly to the
corner of the apartment, Melville closely following him with his eye,
and leaned his gun against the logs. Then he drew his knife and
tomahawk from his girdle, and threw them on the floor beside the more
valuable weapon. That done, he moved back to the fire-place, folded his
arms, and, fixing his black eyes on the countenance of the lad,
repeated--"Red Feather friend of white folk."

"I believe you," responded Melville, carefully letting down the hammer
of his rifle and resting the stock on the floor; "now I am glad to shake
hands with you."

A broader smile than before lit up the dusky face as the chief warmly
pressed the hand of the youth, who felt just a little trepidation when
their palms met.

"Where pappoose?" asked Red Feather, looking suggestively at the steps
leading to the upper story.

"Dot!" called Melville, "come down here; someone wants to see you."

The patter of feet was heard, and the next instant the little one came
tripping downstairs, with her doll clasped by one arm to her breast.

"Red Feather is a good Indian now, and he wants to shake hands with
you."

With a faint blush and a sweet smile Dot ran across the floor and held
out her tiny hand. The chieftain stooped, and not only took the palm of
the little girl, but placed each of his own under her shoulders and
lifted her from the floor. Straightening up, he touched his dusky lips
to those of the innocent one, murmuring, with a depth of emotion which
cannot be described--

"Red Feather lub white pappoose--she make him good Injin--he be her
friend always."

The chieftain touched his lips but once to those of the little one, who
showed no hesitation in accepting the salute. Pure, innocent, and good
herself, she had not yet learned how evil the human heart may become.

Not only did she receive the salute willingly, but threw her free arm
around the neck of the Indian and gave him a kiss.

"Red Feather, what made you come down the chimney?" questioned Melville
when the Indian had released his sister.

"Can't come oder way," was the instant response.

"True; but why do you want to enter this house?"

"Be friend of white folk--come tell 'em."

"I am sure of that; but what can you do for us?"

Red Feather gave no direct answer to this question, but walked upstairs.
As he did so he left every one of his weapons