the prisoner should die, or be adopted into the tribe. It
happened that in this cabin lived an old Indian woman, who had lately
lost a son in battle. She, of course, was to decide Boone's fate. She
looked at him earnestly, admired his noble bearing and cheerful face, and
at length declared that he should live. He should be her son, she said;
he should be to her the son whom she had lost. The young warriors
instantly announced to him his fate, and the fact was soon proclaimed
through the village. Food was brought out and set before him; and every
effort, which Indian love could think of, was used to make him happy. He
was fairly one of the tribe; and the old woman who was to be his mother
was especially delighted.

He was now as free as the rest; his only sorrow was that he had to live
among them. He knew, too, that if he should be caught trying to make his
escape, it would be certain death to him. He pretended, therefore, to be
cheerful and happy; and fortunately his old habits enabled him to play
his part well. Like them, he was a man of the woods, and as fond of
hunting as any of them. They all soon became attached to him, and treated
him with the utmost confidence.

Sometimes large parties would go out to try their skill at their sports
of racing and shooting at a mark. Boone was always with them; he knew,
however, that in trials of this kind the Indians were always jealous if
they were beaten, and therefore he had to act very prudently. At racing,
they could excel him; but at shooting, he was more than a match for any
of them. Still, when the target was set up, he was always certain to be
beaten. If he shot too well, they would be jealous and angry; if he shot
badly, they would hold him in contempt: and therefore he would manage to
make good shots, and yet never be the successful man. He knew too much of
Indians not to conduct himself properly.

Sometimes they would start out upon hunting parties. Here Boone was at
home; there was no jealousy when he brought down a buffalo or a deer with
his rifle-ball. He might do his best; they were true hunters themselves,
and were delighted with every successful shot. Returning to the village,
Boone would always visit the Shawanese chief, and present him a portion
of his game. By this kindness and civility he completely won the heart of
the chief, and was not unfrequently consulted by him on important
matters. Thus he passed his time, joining in all their modes of living;
he w