nd, leaving one of the Indians to walk at my heels. I have no doubt he
did this to avoid any temptation to brain me. I lost track of time, for we
traveled far into the night when the footing was good. We snatched a few
hours' sleep when absolutely necessary and fed indifferently. When I could
walk no farther I was placed on one of the two horses. I hoped that Cousin
in escaping from Abb's Valley had taken our horses with him; and I prayed
he would reach Howard's Creek ahead of Black Hoof.

At last we came to the outskirts of an Indian camp, which I estimated to
be within less than half a mile of the creek settlement. A dozen warriors
swarmed forward to greet us, welcoming me with exaggerated courtesy. While
they were thus mocking me Black Hoof appeared, moving with great dignity,
and dispersing my tormentors with a gesture.

I was led into the camp and my cord made fast to a tree. There was no air
of triumph about the place. A warrior reclining on a pile of boughs and
nursing a shattered shoulder suggested a futile attack on the cabins. I
glanced about for a display of fresh scalps and rejoiced at beholding
none.

The Indians stared at me malevolently, but offered me no abuse. Ward
proudly flourished the hair he had retrieved from the Granville cabin, and
the trophies were soon fastened to a tall pole and paraded around the
camp, after which demonstration the pole was stuck upright in the ground.

It required a second examination of the place to locate Dale. Like myself
he was tied to a tree with sufficient length of cord to permit him to lie
down. His face was heavy with unspeakable horror. When he met my gaze he
did not seem to recognize me at first. Then he muttered:

"You, too!"

My heart ached when I failed to discover any trace of Patricia. Before I
could question the trader, Ward yanked me to my feet and turned me about,
and I found myself looking into the eyes of Black Hoof.

"The young man made a very brave fight," he said.

"It is sad to know a skunk and not a Shawnee warrior captured me," I
replied.

Ward glared murder at me. Black Hoof gave him a warning glance, and
informed me:

"Red Arrow is a Shawnee warrior. Very brave. Very cunning. He will help us
take the cabins on the creek."

"You have tried once?" I asked, glancing at the man with the broken
shoulder.

The chief's brows contracted.

"Some of my young men were very foolish," he replied. "When Catahecassa
tries, the first time will be