of his people.

"Name Frank," he said, touching his breast "What call you?"

"Running Elk, chief among Crees. Long he lead them in the hunt and in
battle. But a serpent come among my people and poison all against
Running Elk. Now they think the half-breed Pierre La Motte best man to
follow. Him talk, talk, all time, and warriors dream. Some day they wake
up and know him for bad man. Then p'raps they ask Running Elk come back
again. Wait, see!"

That was the Indian idea of patience. Frank could understand it all now.
Plainly, a smart half-breed had managed to hypnotize the braves in the
Cree village, and influence them to turn against their own chief. When
he and his family resisted they were ignominiously exiled, and sent
forth to face the world without means for providing food for the squaws
and pappooses.

Somehow, Frank felt a strong sense of sympathy for the old exiled chief.

"You see the rancher, Mr. Mabie. I think he can do something for you,"
he said.

"I know him. He no like Running Elk and the Crees. Once they take some
cattle that stampede and wander far away. Never forget or forgive that
wrong. Better not see rancher. Go on down river soon, sell few pelts,
and buy gun. Mebbe all right."

"No! no! Don't be in a hurry. I'm sure Mr. Mabie won't hold that old
grudge against you now, and he's a good man. He will give you gun and
powder. Wait and see."

Half an hour later, as he was sitting there, with a rude bandage around
his throbbing head, and talking with Little Mink, who had taken a great
fancy for the paleface hunter who owned the beautiful gun, Frank heard
a startled exclamation from the border of the thicket near by.

"Hello, there, Jerry! Come in and get acquainted!" he cried out, as his
eyes fell upon the astonished face of his chum thrust from the scrub.

"Talk to me about surprises! What could equal this? Here, after getting
the scare of my life, thinking my chum had been carried off by the
redskins, I find him hobnobbing with them in their camp. Sure they ain't
dangerous, Frank?" asked Jerry, advancing cautiously, with his gun held
ready.

"As mild as an old lady's cup of tea. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Sit down, and
I'll tell you all about them," said Frank.

"First, I want to know are you hurt much? I happened on where you fell,
and just imagine my alarm when I saw the print of little moccasins. Why,
I was sure some frisky red had knocked you over the head with a warclub,
and then toted y