le he poked him on the ribs with the other.
The captive's face was the picture of dismay; even the streaks of
paint did not hide his look of fear and bewilderment. The poor
half-witted fellow was so badly frightened that he could only groan.

"Silvertip scalp paleface. Ugh!" growled the savage, giving Loorey
another blow on the side. This time he bent over in pain. The
bystanders were divided in feeling; the men laughed, while the women
murmured sympathetically.

"This's not a bit funny," muttered Joe, as he pushed his way nearly
to the middle of the crowd. Then he stretched out a long arm that,
bare and brawny, looked as though it might have been a blacksmith's,
and grasped the Indian's sinewy wrist with a force that made him
loosen his hold on Loorey instantly.

"I stole the shirt--fun--joke," said Joe. "Scalp me if you want to
scalp anyone."

The Indian looked quickly at the powerful form before him. With a
twist he slipped his arm from Joe's grasp.

"Big paleface heap fun--all squaw play," he said, scornfully. There
was a menace in his somber eyes as he turned abruptly and left the
group.

"I'm afraid you've made an enemy," said Jake Wentz to Joe. "An
Indian never forgets an insult, and that's how he regarded your
joke. Silvertip has been friendly here because he sells us his
pelts. He's a Shawnee chief. There he goes through the willows!"

By this time Jim and Mr. Wells, Mrs. Wentz and the girls had joined
the group. They all watched Silvertip get into his canoe and paddle
away.

"A bad sign," said Wentz, and then, turning to Jeff Lynn, who joined
the party at that moment, he briefly explained the circumstances.

"Never did like Silver. He's a crafty redskin, an' not to be
trusted," replied Jeff.

"He has turned round and is looking back," Nell said quickly.

"So he has," observed the fur-trader.

The Indian was now several hundred yards down the swift river, and
for an instant had ceased paddling. The sun shone brightly on his
eagle plumes. He remained motionless for a moment, and even at such
a distance the dark, changeless face could be discerned. He lifted
his hand and shook it menacingly.

"If ye don't hear from that redskin ag'in Jeff Lynn don't know
nothin'," calmly said the old frontiersman.

Chapter IV.

As the rafts drifted with the current the voyagers saw the settlers
on the landing-place diminish until they had faded from indistinct
figures to mere black specks against the gree