on all fours, creeping under the branches of
the thicket and pausing at every pace.

"Would that I had taken lessons in forest lore before I went among the
Sioux," I thought to myself. Now I knew what had been incomprehensible
before--why all my well-laid plans had been detected.

A wind rustled through the foliage. That was in our favor; for in spite
of our care the leaves crushed and crinkled beneath us. At intervals a
glimmer of light shone from the beach. Louis paused and listened so
intently our breathing was distinctly audible. A vague murmur of low
voices--like the "talking of the trees" in Little Fellow's
language--floated up from the river; and in the moonlight I saw Laplante
laugh noiselessly. Trees stood farther apart on the flats and brushwood
gave place to a forest of ferns, that concealed us in their deep
foliage; but the thick growth also hid the enemy, and we knew not at
what moment we might emerge in full view of the camp. So we stretched
out flat, spying through the fern stalks before we parted the stems to
draw ourselves on a single pace. Presently, the murmur separated into
distinct voices, with much low laughing and the bitter jeers that make
up Indian mirth. We could hear the crackling of the fire, and wormed
forward like caterpillars.

There was a glare of light through the ferns, and Louis stopped. We all
three pulled abreast of him. Lying there as a cat watches a mouse, we
parted first one and then another of the fronds till the Indian
encampment could be clearly seen.

"Is that the tribe?" I whispered; but Louis gripped my arm in a vice
that forbade speech.

The camp was not a hundred feet away. Fire blazed in the centre. Poles
were up for wigwams, and already skins had been overlaid, completing
several lodges. Men lay in lazy attitudes about the fire. Squaws were
taking what was left of the evening meal and slave-women were putting
things to rights for the night. Sitting apart, with hands tied, were
other slaves, chiefly young women taken in some recent fray and not yet
trusted unbound. Among these was one better clad than the others. Her
wrists were tied; but her hands managed to conceal her face, which was
bowed low. In her lap was a sleeping child. Was this Miriam? Children
were with the other captives; but to my eyes this woman's torn shawl
appeared reddish in the fire glow.

"Let's go boldly up and offer to buy the slaves," I suggested; but
Louis' grip tightened forbiddingly and L