s of softer texture than is the rule
with his people. Several stained eagle feathers slanted upward and
outward from the crown, and a double row of brilliant beads encircled
his neck. A fine gold bracelet clasped his left wrist, and the deer-skin
hunting shirt and leggings were clean, and of the finest possible make.
They retained their dull, yellow hue, but the girdle which clasped his
body at the waist was of a red color, so bright that it seemed likely to
attract dangerous attention in the forest. The leggings were fringed,
and the delicate moccasins were also ornamented with colored beads. The
heavy blanket which he carried during severe weather was lacking, for it
would have been only an encumbrance when the climate was mild.

Into the girdle were thrust a tomahawk and hunting knife, while a long
bow was carried in his right hand, and a quiver full of arrows rested
behind his right shoulder, where they could be snatched forth on the
instant. The youthful warrior carried no firearms, for he depended alone
on the primitive weapons which his people had used for centuries.

Splendid as were the frame and limbs of the youth, the greatest
attraction lay in his countenance. His features were classical in their
regularity, excepting the nose, which was just enough aquiline to give
character to his face, and take away the femininity which otherwise
might cling to it.

When he smiled in his faint, shadowy fashion, his teeth were seen to be
small, white, regular, and without the slightest defect, while the
lustrous black eyes glowed with light and feeling. Having closed the
door behind him, he still hesitated to advance until assured he was
welcome.

Although Mrs. Carleton had never seen him before, she was certain of his
identity, and, rising from her seat, she asked:

"Are you Deerfoot the Shawanoe?"

He smiled and inclined his head.

"You are the friend of my boy, and of Otto, the son of Mr. Relstaub.
There is no one in the world who could be more welcome than you. Come
forward and take a seat nearer the fire."

The dusky countenance flushed with pleasure, for the words were warmer
than he was accustomed to hear.

Deerfoot advanced a couple of steps, and, reaching over, drew the rude
stool to him. His diffidence would not allow him to go very near the
blaze.

When Jacob Relstaub heard the name pronounced, he uttered an angry sniff
and banged his cane upon the floor. He said nothing; but he detested the
handsom