t answer. But away down
in our hearts is a faith which the whole world can not remove, and which
can be uprooted only by ourselves. Woe to him who dares lay violent
hands upon it!

Deerfoot no more doubted that he and every one was in the direct keeping
of God than he doubted that he breathed and moved. He knew that the
Great Spirit had caused him to be made a prisoner by whites so that he
might learn the way of life; he knew that He had given him an insight
into the mysteries of His word that was denied to many others. A deep,
outstretching sympathy for those less favored than he suffused his whole
being. Gladly would he have given up his life in pain and torture and
agony, as did One in the dim long ago, if by so doing he could earn the
smile of his Heavenly Father.

But this remarkable young Christian felt that he was doing the work
appointed for him to do. Here and there he dropped a word that proved to
be seed sown upon good ground, and which had borne its fruit. He had met
his enemies in fair combat and had never taken wrong advantage of them:
his marvelous bow and arrow, and his still more effective rifle, had
brought many a dusky miscreant low, but he had used his amazing gifts in
the line of duty, and for the good of others. Would that he could have
won them by love, but it was not in the nature of things that he should
do so. He had "broken the Bread of Life" to more than one, and he hoped
that ere he should be called home, he should point the way to others.

Suddenly he raised his chin from his hands and turned his head slightly
to one side. His ear, whose acuteness was almost beyond belief, had
caught a suspicious sound. Profound as might be the meditation of the
Shawanoe, he could never forget his surroundings.

CHAPTER XVIII.

LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT.

The crisp autumn night had not reached its turn when the full moon
climbed from behind the straggling clouds obscuring her face, into the
clear air above, and shone down on the wilderness, with the same calm
splendor with which it had shone during the ages before the foot of a
white man had rested on the soil of our country. Here and there, at
widely-separated points, as the orb moved toward the zenith, could be
seen the star-like twinkles of light which showed where the sparse
settlements had been planted by the pioneers. At intervals, too, miles
away from the clearings, could be distinguished the glimmer of the
hunters' camp-fires, where t