our was
nearly come.

Suddenly his hearing, trained to a most acute sensibility, caught a
faint sound, almost inaudible. It came from without on the other
side of the lodge. There it was again, a slight tearing sound, such
as is caused by a knife when it cuts through soft material.

Some one was slitting the wall of the lodge.

The hunter rolled noiselessly over and over until he lay against the
skins. In the dim grayness he saw a bright blade moving carefully
upward through the deer-hide. Then a long knife was pushed into the
opening; a small, brown hand grasped the hilt. Another little hand
followed and felt of the wall and floor, reaching out with groping
fingers.

The, hunter rolled again so that his back was against the wall and
his wrists in front of the opening. He felt the little hand on his
arm; then it slipped down to his wrists. The contact of cold steel
set a tremor of joy through his heart. The pressure of his bonds
relaxed, ceased; his arms were free. He turned to find the
long-bladed knife on the ground. The little hands were gone.

In a tinkling he rose unbound, armed, desperate. In another second
an Indian warrior lay upon the ground in his death-throes, while a
fleeing form vanished in the gray morning mist.

Chapter VII.

Joe felt the heavy lethargy rise from him like the removal of a
blanket; his eyes became clear, and he saw the trees and the forest
gloom; slowly he realized his actual position.

He was a prisoner, lying helpless among his sleeping captors.
Silvertip and the guard had fled into the woods, frightened by the
appalling moan which they believed sounded their death-knell. And
Joe believed he might have fled himself had he been free. What could
have caused that sound? He fought off the numbing chill that once
again began to creep over him. He was wide-awake now; his head was
clear, and he resolved to retain his senses. He told himself there
could be nothing supernatural in that wind, or wail, or whatever it
was, which had risen murmuring from out the forest-depths.

Yet, despite his reasoning, Joe could not allay his fears. That
thrilling cry haunted him. The frantic flight of an Indian
brave--nay, of a cunning, experienced chief--was not to be lightly
considered. The savages were at home in these untracked wilds.
Trained from infancy to scent danger and to fight when they had an
equal chance they surely would not run without good cause.

Joe knew that something moved un