nce.

At that instant something like the flitting of a bird's wing twinkled in
front of their eyes, and the quick "chuck" which followed showed them an
Indian arrow with its head buried in the ground fifty feet beyond, and
the feathered point still a-tremble from the force with which it had
been driven from the bow.

Like a flash they looked toward the opposite point, and that which met
their gaze was perhaps the most alarming sight they had ever seen.
Scarcely a hundred feet away, on the edge of the wood, stood Deerfoot
the Shawanoe. He had already launched two arrows, and, when they caught
sight of him, he was standing with a third drawn to the head, and
apparently in the very act of letting fly at one of the terrified
warriors.

The American Indian as a rule is not powerful, and his muscular
development is moderate; but his life accustoms him to quickness of
movement, and he generally excels in running and leaping. Any one
looking upon Lone Bear and Red Wolf at that moment would have set them
down as the champions of their tribe. When they identified the archer
and saw that he was on the point of discharging another missile, they
made a break for shelter.

Red Wolf headed for the river, possibly because he didn't dare to lose
the time it would take to turn partly on his feet. He ran as if he meant
to make the effort to leap entirely across, or at least to outrun the
arrow which he believed was chasing him.

He hadn't far to go, and it didn't take him long to travel it. A bound,
a splash, and he vanished.

Lone Bear knew he was closer to the wood than to the water, and he was
equally determined to attain shelter. In his tremendous effort, he
seemed to think he could dodge the shafts that were whizzing through the
air in quick succession after him. He bent his head so that he was
crouching half way to the ground, and leaped from side to side, ducked
and dodged and contorted himself in an indescribable fashion. When he
bounded among the trees, he must have felt he had made the escape of his
life.

But the third arrow did not leave the bow. Deerfoot had not sought to
harm either of the Pawnees, but in obedience to that disposition to
humor which he sometimes displayed, he took pains to fire as close as he
could without hitting them. When he saw their dismay, he shook from head
to foot with silent laughter.

But his mirth was brief. A slight noise caused him to turn his head.
There stood two other Indians direc