t ashore, and the two scouts listened attentively to the recital.

"Now, how come he to leave you this morning? Let us know all, Mr.
Merriweather."

The story of Little Moccasin's appearance in the camp, and John
Darknight's hasty desertion was then told.

"Now what do you think of the girl?" the young scout said in a low tone
to Wolf Cap.

There was a tinge of triumph in the youth's voice.

"What have I already told you about her?" was the reply. "I allow that
her action is strange, but those Indian witches can outdo anything in
the woods. I have my opinion, and shall stick to it. Of course you will
let me do this, boy."

"Certainly, Abner. I shall do nothing to embarrass you in it; but it
puzzles me because you can see no good in the girl."

"I'm sorry, boy--indeed I am. I wish I could tell you what I really
think about some things; but not now, if you please. I'm going down to
the river. Talk to the folks here; you know what to say. We are here to
take them to Mad Anthony or die in the attempt."

Having finished, the tall scout withdrew from the little group and
betook himself to the water's edge, shaded by the leafy boughs of a
giant tree.

Harvey Catlett glanced over his shoulder at the retreating figure and
then addressed the fugitives with a smile.

"He is a mystery; one of the many that inhabit the backwoods. Why, he
does not place any confidence in Little Moccasin; he seems to hate her,
and yet I believe she has never lifted a finger of harm against him. But
we have unaccountable antagonisms, and here in the woods one finds them
plentiful."

"But who can hate that dear girl?" said Kate Merriweather's musical
voice. "I could easily call her sister, and live forever at her side.
She is not an Indian, though she calls her mother Madgitwa. She cannot
be treacherous to our people."

"Thanks," said Harvey Catlett, bowing to the fair young speaker. "I
rejoice to hear you speak thus of the girl."

"I fear that Kate is thus partial because of her pretty eyes. I must
confess that I do not like her. Her desertion means no good to us."

The last speaker was Carl Merriweather, ever ready to join in a
conversation where any one crossed swords with his opinions.

"We will not argue the matter now," Harvey said, seeing the youth's
flushed cheeks, and not liking to incur the displeasure of any of the
fugitives.

"Perhaps we had best not," responded Carl with a slight sneer and a
meaning glance at his friend