t go far at all. But the prime place for ducks and geese lay about
three miles out, at some swampy ponds near the river. With a couple of
fowling-pieces and the ammunition they trudged away. William Wells and
the older Linn were fourteen. Boy Brashear was twelve. The other Linn
and the fifth boy were nine or ten.

They hunted around the ponds until dusk. Then they decided to stay out
all night--which was no trick at all. They made camp like regular
scouts, cooked some ducks, and slept in a bough hut that they built.
During the night the snow fell, sifting down through the trees, but
they did not care a whit.

They had planned to find more ducks in the ponds, in the morning; but
the storm interfered.

"Aw, let's go home," said Wells.

"All right. Let's."

After breakfast they gathered their stuff, and were just starting,
when with a dash and a whoop the Indians were upon them--likely
enough had been watching them since daylight.

"Injuns! Run, boys!"

It was sharp work, but soon over. William Wells, the littler Linn and
the fifth boy were grabbed; the larger Linn had a goose and several
ducks slung over his shoulder and did not mean to give them up; but he
was one of those pudgy, plum-pudding, over-grown boys, and stumbled on
his own feet. He was nabbed by a big Indian who patted him on the back
and called him "Little Fat Bear."

Brashear, though, nearly got away. He was the best runner at school,
and gave the Indians a pretty chase among the trees before they caught
him at last. They seemed to think all the more of him for his try, and
called him "Buck Elk."

Well, this was a nice how-de-do! Five boys, all captured. Still, the
same had happened to other boys, and to trained scouts. Nobody could
blame them, but they felt rather sore.

The Indians now began to question them in broken English.

"Where from?"

"Louisville."

"You lie. No from Louisville. Where live?"

"Louisville."

"You lie. Get beatin'. Mebbe get killed. Where live, fat boy?"

"Louisville."

One and all they stuck to the story. They had no notion of betraying
the cabins of Colonel Pope and his neighbors.

The Indians grunted in disgust, put the boys in their midst and hustled
them to the river.

"Guess we're in for it," remarked William Wells. "We'll keep a stiff
upper lip. Who are they? Miamis?"

"Reckon so. Or Potawatomis. Glad they ain't Shawnees," answered
Little Fat Bear. "Shucks! If I h