could they follow and watch his further movements,
they might indulge in something more than a surmise about his fidelity;
indeed, be convinced he is a traitor.

After getting about half-a-mile from the mission walls, he makes stop on
the edge of attract of timber lying between--its outer edge, open
towards the river's bank, and the bluffs beyond.

There, crouching down by the side of a flat stone, he pours some
gunpowder upon it, from a horn taken out of his pocket.

This done, he draws forth a box of lucifer matches; scrapes one across
the stone, and sets the powder ablaze.

It flashes up in bright glare, illumining the darkness around.

A second, time he repeats this manoeuvre; a third, and a fourth; and on,
till, for the tenth time, powder has been burnt.

Then turning away from the spot, he makes back towards the
dwelling-house, entering it by the way he went out, and stealthily as
before.

No one within its walls has been witness to the pyrotechnic display.

For all, it has not been unobserved. The Indian videttes, stationed on
the far-off bluff, see it. See, and furthermore, seem to accept it as a
signal--a cue for action. What but this could have caused them to
spring upon the backs of their horses, forsake their post of
observation, and gallop off to the bivouac of their comrades; which they
do, soon as noting that the tenth flash is not followed by another?

Surely must it be a signal, and preconcerted?

In the life of the prairie savage fire plays a conspicuous part. It is
his telegraph, by which he can communicate with far off friends, telling
them where an enemy is, and how or when he should be "struck." A single
spark, or smoke, has in it much of meaning. A flash may mean more; but
ten following in succession were alphabet enough to tell a tale of no
common kind--one, it may be, predicting death.

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

A SUSPECTED SERVANT.

Now fairly inaugurated, the new colony gives promise of a great success;
and the colonists are congratulating themselves.

None more than their chief, Colonel Armstrong. His leaving Mississippi
has been a lucky move; so far all has gone well; and if the future but
respond to its promise, his star, long waning, will be once more in the
ascendant. There is but one thought to darken this bright dream: the
condition of his eldest daughter. Where all others are rejoicing, there
is no gladness for her. Sombre melancholy seems to have taken
possess