own
advantage, effected to believe that he had dropped it on the way, and
would easily recover it on the morrow, as no Indian could possibly
attach the least value to it.

Another subject of agitation to Braxley, was the reappearance of his
rival; who, however, Doe assured him, was "now as certainly a dead man,
as if twenty bullets had been driven through his body."--"He is in the
hands of the Old Vulture," said he, grimly, "and he will burn in fire
jist as sure as _we_ will, Dick Braxley, when the devil gits us!--that
is, unless we ourselves save him!"

"We, Jack!" said the other, with a laugh: "and yet who knows how the wind
may blow _you_? But an hour ago you were as remorseful over the lad's
supposed death as you are now apparently indifferent what befalls him."

"It is true," replied Doe, coolly: "but see the difference! When the
Piankeshaws were burning him,--or when I thought the dogs were at it,--it
was a death of _my_ making for him: it was _I_ that helped him to the
stake. But here the case is altered. He comes here on his own hook; the
Injuns catch him on his own hook; and, d--n them, they'll burn him on
his own hook! and so it's no matter of my consarning. There's the root of
it!"

This explanation satisfied his suspicious ally; and having conversed a
while longer on what appeared to them most wonderful and interesting in
the singular attempt at the rescue, the two retired to their repose.

CHAPTER XXXII.

The following day was one of unusual animation and bustle in the Indian
village, as the prisoners could distinguish even from their several
places of confinement, without, however, being sensible of the cause.
Prom sunrise until after mid-day, they heard, at intervals, volleys of
fire-arms shot off at the skirts of the town, which, being followed by
shrill halloos as from those who fired them, were immediately re-echoed
by all the throats in the village--men, women, children, and dogs uniting
in a clamour that was plainly the outpouring of savage exultation and
delight. It seemed as if parties of warriors, returning victorious from
the lands of the Long-knife, were, time after time, marching into and
through the village, proclaiming the success of their arms, and
exhibiting the trophies of their triumph. The hubbub increased, the
shouts became more frequent and multitudinous, and the village for a
second time seemed given up to the wildest and maddest revelry, to the
sway of unchained demon