his gaze since
leaving home. Less than a mile off, close to the shore of a winding
stream and in the middle of a partially cleared space, stood the Indian
village toward which his footsteps had been tending for nearly two days,
and where he was likely to spend an indefinite captivity.

The stream was perhaps a hundred feet in width. It shone brightly in the
morning sun, and the current was clearer than that of the river crossed
the day before. It wound its way westward as far as the eye could follow
it, flowing into a tributary of the Osage, thence to the Missouri, and
so on to the Gulf of Mexico.

The Indian village numbered between twenty and thirty lodges, wigwams or
dwellings as they may be called. Some of them were made of bison and
deer skins, and were of irregular, conical shape; others were mere huts,
covered with grass, leaves, limbs and dirt, while one or two were
mainly composed of stones piled in the form of rude walls and roofed in
the rude fashion described.

These primitive structures were scattered irregularly over a space of
half an acre, which might be called a clearing, inasmuch as only a few
stumps and broken trees were to be seen. But nothing in the way of corn
or vegetables was growing, and the air of dilapidation, untidiness and
squalor pervading the whole scene, was characteristic of the race, and
was that which robs it of the romance which in the minds of many
attaches to the name of the American Indian.

Viewed from the ridge, Jack could see figures moving to and fro in the
aimless manner natural to such indolent people. There were children
running and playing among the stumps and dwellings--half naked little
knots of humanity, who in a few years would become the repulsive squaws
or terrible warriors of the tribe. Three of the youngsters were having a
high time with a canoe lying against the shore. They were splashing the
water over each other, plunging into the stream and scrambling out again
without regard to the wear or tear of their clothing, and playing all
sorts of tricks on each other, while a half dozen playmates were
standing on the bank laughing so heartily that a spectator would have
found it hard to understand why the American race is so often described
as of a melancholy temperament.

Now and then some squaw could be seen trudging along under a load of
sticks, while more than likely her lazy husband was asleep within the
wigwam. A half dozen warriors strolled off toward the w