y and elusive, the lad dodged around the struggling savage.
One, two, three hard blows staggered Silvertip, and a fourth,
delivered with the force of Joe's powerful arm, caught the Indian
when he was off his balance, and felled him, battered and bloody, on
the grass. The surrounding Indians looked down at the vanquished
Shawnee, expressing their approval in characteristic grunts.

With Lance prancing proudly, and Mose leaping lovingly beside him,
Joe walked back to his lodge. Whispering Winds sprang to meet him
with joyful face. She had feared the outcome of trouble with the
Shawnee, but no queen ever bestowed upon returning victorious lord a
loftier look of pride, a sweeter glance of love, than the Indian
maiden bent upon her lover.

Whispering Winds informed Joe that an important council was to be
held that afternoon. It would be wise for them to make the attempt
to get away immediately after the convening of the chiefs.
Accordingly she got upon Lance and rode him up and down the village
lane, much to the pleasure of the watching Indians. She scattered
the idle crowds on the grass plots, she dashed through the side
streets, and let every one in the encampment see her clinging to the
black stallion. Then she rode him out along the creek. Accustomed to
her imperious will, the Indians thought nothing unusual. When she
returned an hour later, with flying hair and disheveled costume, no
one paid particular attention to her.

That afternoon Joe and his bride were the favored of fortune. With
Mose running before them, they got clear of the encampment and into
the woods. Once in the forest Whispering Winds rapidly led the way
east. When they climbed to the top of a rocky ridge she pointed down
into a thicket before her, saying that somewhere in this dense
hollow was Girty's hut. Joe hesitated about taking Mose. He wanted
the dog, but in case he had to run it was necessary Whispering Winds
should find his trail, and for this he left the dog with her.

He started down the ridge, and had not gone a hundred paces when
over some gray boulders he saw the thatched roof of a hut. So wild
and secluded was the spot, that he would never have discovered the
cabin from any other point than this, which he had been so fortunate
as to find.

His study and practice under Wetzel now stood him in good stead. He
picked out the best path over the rough stones and through the
brambles, always keeping under cover. He stepped as carefully as i