ly along the level of his two hands. Henry understood the
pantomime perfectly.

"I know," he said. "Whoraminta is a rifle. You're right, Thunder, I'd
like mighty well to be out in the forest with my Whoraminta, one of the
trustiest and best comrades I ever had."

Heno's smile answered that of the captive.

"And with plenty of Teghsto?" he said.

"Teghsto?" said Henry. "That's new to me. Can't you think of the English
word for it?"

Heno shook his head, but closed his right hand until it formed
approximately the shape of a horn, then elevated it and held it as if he
were pouring something into the open palm of his left hand.

"Use in Whoraminta," he said.

"That's not hard," said Henry. "Powder you mean."

"That right," said Heno, smiling again. "Teghsto go in Whoraminta, and
Yeatara go in Whoraminta, too. You want plenty of Yeatara."

"Lead! bullets!" said Henry at a guess.

"Yes. That it. Yeatara is lead, and you snap with Taweghskera; fire
spark jump out flash! bang! You want Taweghskera, too."

"Taweghskera must be flint," said Henry, and old Heno nodded. "Yes,
Thunder, I'd want the flint, too, or I couldn't do anything at all with
Whoraminta, Teghsto and Yeatara. I'll remember those words, my friend.
Thanks for your free teaching."

"You learn fast. You make good Wyandot," said Heno in the most friendly
manner. "You have your arms, your feet free, Whoraminta with you, you go
with the warriors on great hunt, you gone many moons, you kill the deer,
buffalo, bear, panther, you have no care, no sorrow, you live. I, too,
was a young hunter and warrior once."

Old Heno slowly drew his figure up at the glorious picture that he had
painted. His nostrils were distended, and the fire of his youth came
back into his eyes. He saw the buffaloes trampling down the grass, and
heard the shout of his enemies in the forest combat.

"I'm thinking, Heno," said Henry sincerely, "that you're yet a good deal
of a young hunter and warrior."

"You not only make good warrior, but you make good chief, too. You know
how to talk," said Heno.

Nevertheless, he was pleased, and he was still smiling when he left a
few moments later. Nobody else came for a day and night, old Heno
bringing him his food and water. He did not suffer any actual physical
pain, as his bonds permitted him to move a little and the circulation
was not impeded, but he chafed terribly. The picture that Heno had drawn
of the great forest and the great hunt