failed to hear the
unusual turmoil.

She would not have been human had she not shown some curiosity
respecting her husband's companion. Jack doffed his hat and bowed to her
with elaborate courtesy, after which he leaned his rifle against the
side of the wigwam and folded his arms. The squaw surveyed him for a
full minute, during which he stood as if awaiting her commands, and
then, turning to her husband, the two held a short but vigorous
conversation.

The wife must have been expecting him, for she was engaged in cooking
some venison in the usual aboriginal fashion, and, to the great relief
of the boy, the two were not kept waiting for their meal. Seating
themselves cross-legged on the ground, the half-cooked meat was taken in
their hands, and, with no other utensils than his hunting knife, each
made his morning meal.

And so at last Jack Carleton was a captive among a tribe of Indians
whose totem was unknown to him. Whether he was to remain with them until
manhood, or whether he was to be put to death long before that period,
were questions whose answers he did not dare try to conjecture.

His situation was a most extraordinary one, as every reader will admit.
He knew of more than one instance where children who were captured when
quite small, had become so attached to the rude ways and wild life of
the red men, that they refused to go back to their own people when the
offer presented itself, but it was too late in the day for such an
experience to befall him.

And now, for a time, we must leave Jack Carleton to himself, while we
give attention to other incidents which are destined to have a bearing
on his fate.

CHAPTER XIV.

ON THE MOUNTAIN CREST.

The reader has not forgotten the encounter between Jacob Relstaub and
Deerfoot, the Shawanoe, when the former plunged headlong through his own
door in mortal fear that the tomahawk of the youthful warrior would be
sent crashing through his brain; but, much as Deerfoot despised the
German, he had no thought of visiting injury upon him. Shoving back the
weapon to its place in his girdle, he therefore strode off in the
forest, never pausing in his walk until the sun appeared above the
horizon. He was then many miles from Martinsville, his face turned
toward the southwest.

Throwing himself on his face, he quaffed his fill from a small, clear
stream, whose current was only moderately cool, and then, assuming an
easy posture on the ground, gave himself ov