od.
The latter, like those to which reference has been made, was of the
nature of a ridge, while the one on which his eyes were fixed was a
diminutive Teneriffe as to its form.

While the manner of Deerfoot indicated very plainly that he expected to
see something out of the usual order of things, yet it looked very much
as if he would have been pleased over his failure to do so. No painter
could limn a more striking picture than that which was formed by
Deerfoot, at the close of that beautiful spring day, when, as the sun
was setting, he stood on the elevation and gazed across the intervening
country.

His right elbow rested on the top of the rock, and his right leg
supported the weight of his body. The lower half of the left leg was
slung across the other, the toe of the moccasin touching the earth. The
right hand dropped over the side of the rock, and lightly held the long
bow which leaned against the same support. The posture was that of
elegant ease, and the best calculated to bring out in clear relief the
Apollo-like splendor of his figure. The luxuriant black hair streaming
over the shoulders, the gaudy eagle feathers thrust in at the crown, the
lustrous black eyes, the slightly Roman nose, the rows of colored beads
around the neck, the dull yellow of the hunting shirt, the quiver of
arrows behind the right shoulder, the red sash, holding knife and
tomahawk, the gold bracelet on the left wrist, the fringed border of his
hunting shirt about the knees, the brilliant fringes to the leggings,
the pretty moccasins, and the shapeliness of form, limb and
feature--all these made up the poetical Indian, which, sad to say, is
almost as rare among his race as the black diamond is in nature.

But such was Deerfoot the Shawanoe.

CHAPTER XV.

THE RETURN AND DEPARTURE.

Easy and negligent as was the posture assumed by Deerfoot the Shawanoe,
his eyes were never at rest. Resting for a moment on the promontory,
they darted to the right and left down the valley, and even took in the
shifting clouds in the sky above. But it was the peak which riveted his
attention, and which was scrutinized with minute closeness until the
gathering gloom shut it from sight.

It was not fairly dark when he kindled a fire on the very highest point,
and then placing himself so far from it that the glare could not
interfere with his sight, he looked out in the night. The darkness was
such that nothing could be seen beyond his immediate