"A Huron, as I live," said O'Hara, in pleased astonishment. "What can
_that_ red-skin mean by being in these parts? All alone, too. If he was
only Oonamoo, now, I'd feel glad to see him."

Oonamoo, to whom the hunter alluded, was a Huron scout, well known
along the frontier as one of the best friends the whites possessed. He
had the shrewdness, cunning and skill of his people in an astonishing
degree, and had many times given evidence of his faithfulness to the
settlers. He was well known to the Riflemen of the Miami, having guided
them in several expeditions, and with O'Hara especially he was on good
terms. The anxiety of the latter, therefore, to meet him can be well
understood.

"Oonamoo would unravel the whole thing afore noon," said he, "and I'd
about as lief see him this minute as I would see Lew. Let me get a
better glimpse of his face. I didn't suspect him being a Huron when he
jumped up just now, or I'd noticed his features. It don't look like
Oonamoo, to see him noddin' in that style."

He moved cautiously around, until fairly in front of the savage, when
he uttered a low, peculiar whistle. The latter instantly raised his
head, his black eyes open to their fullest extent, and gave a look that
at once discovered his identity to O'Hara.

"Oonamoo, and no mistake," he muttered; and then repeating the whistle
as a warning that he was about to approach, he stepped boldly forth and
revealed himself. The Huron started with surprise, and then advanced
with an expression of pleasure to greet his white brother.

"Glad to meet," he said, speaking brokenly.

"And I'm derned glad to see you, Oonamoo, for I need your help this
minute. What are you doing? Out on a scout?"

The Huron shook his head.

"No scout--Oonamoo live in woods--like the deer--can't sleep near white
men's houses."

"'Pears you can sleep here though, the way your head was bobbin'
around. Been up late at night, I s'pose?"

"No sleep now--meet 'Hara, white brother," said he, with an expression
of joy upon his swarthy countenance.

"Yes, I smelt the smoke of your fire, and follerin' it up I cone onto
you. 'Pears to me it was rather careless kindling your fire here in
broad daylight. Ain't there any Injins in the neighborhood?"

"Woods full of 'em--Shawnees, Miamis, Delawares, all over, like leaves
of trees," replied the savage, sweeping his arm around him.

"Ain't you _afeard_ they might come down on you?"

The Rifleman indulged in an inward