behind him. Nothing but the dim figures of the tree-trunks rewarded
his gaze.

Fully a half-hour was spent in wandering to and fro in the further
efforts to locate the light that had caught his eye, and he finally
sought to obtain his first stand-point. Whether he succeeded or not
Teddy never could tell, but he never saw nor learned anything more
regarding the camp-fire to which he was confident that he had been
in such close proximity.

About this time, which was in the neighborhood of midnight, Teddy made
the discovery that he was lost, and, like a sensible person, gave up
all efforts to right himself. He was so wearied that he did not awake
until daylight, when he was aroused by the five Indians, whose
trail-hunt led them to the spot where he lay sleeping.

The trail was now followed rapidly for a half-mile when, as the
pursuers had feared all along, it made a sudden bend to the river,
upon the banks of which it was totally lost. Not to be baffled in this
manner, a canoe was produced with which three crossed the river. The
entire day was spent by these upon one bank, while the two other
Indians and Teddy pursued the search for traces of the hunter's
landing upon their own side of the stream. Not the slightest evidence
was discovered that he had touched shore after embarking. The man had
escaped, and even the eagle-eyed Sioux were compelled on the second
night to return to their village with the sad announcement that the
TRAIL WAS LOST!

[Illustration: THE TRAIL WAS LOST.]

CHAPTER VII.

A HIBERNIAN'S SEARCH FOR THE TRAIL.

"Oh I let me only breathe the air,
The blessed air that's breathed by thee;
And, whether on its wings it bear
Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me."

At the close of a windy, blustering day in 1821, two men were seated
by a camp-fire in the depths of the wilderness of the northwest. The
wind howled through the branches with a moaning sound such as often
heralds the approach of bitter cold weather; and a few feathery flakes
of snow that sailed along on the wind, proved that the season of
storms was close at hand.

The fire was built down deep in a sort of gorge, where its cheery,
crackling blaze could not be seen by any one until he was nearly upon
it. The men sat with their pipes in their mouths, their rifles beside
them and their feet toward the fire. From appearances they were on
the best of terms. One of them needs no introduction, as he is our old
friend Teddy, who