sture such that
his features were in sight. He lay on his face, his arms half folded
under his chest, so that his shoulders were also held clear of the
ground. His dark eyes were fixed upon the countenance of the Shawanoe
youth, with a rapt expression that made him unconscious of every thing
else. Into that heart was penetrating the partial light of a mystery
which mortal man has never fully solved; he was learning the great
lesson beside which all others sink into insignificance.

Jack Carleton moved as softly as he could, so as to view the picture
without bodily discomfort. Deerfoot glanced at him, without checking
himself, but Hay-uta heard him not. Watchful and vigilant as he was, an
enemy might have stolen forward and driven his tomahawk through his
brain, without any thought on his part of his peril.

"I wish I could understand what Deerfoot is saying," was the thought of
Jack, whose eyes filled at the touching sight.

"A full-blooded Indian is urging the Christian religion on another
Indian. Even I, who have a praying mother, have been reproved by him,
and with good cause too."

By and by the senses of the young Kentuckian left him, and again he
slept. This time he did not open his eyes until broad daylight.

CHAPTER III.

THE CAMP OF THE STRANGERS.

The expedition on which Jack Carleton entered with his two companions
promised to be similar in many respects to those which have been already
described. It looked indeed as if it would be more dull, and, for a
while, such was the fact, but it was not long before matters took a turn
as extraordinary as unexpected, and which quickly led the Kentuckian to
conclude that it was, after all, the most eventful enterprise of his
life.

For nearly three days the westward journey was without incident which
need be given in detail. They swam several streams of water, climbed and
descended elevations and shot such game as they required. The weapon of
Hay-uta proved to be fully as excellent as it looked. Though its
flintlock and single muzzle-loading barrel would have made a sorry show
in the presence of our improved modern weapons, yet it was capable of
splendid execution. Jack Carleton was a fine marksman, but in a friendly
contest in which the three engaged, the Sauk beat him almost every time.
That this was due to the superiority of his gun was proven by the fact
that when they exchanged rifles, the young Kentuckian never failed to
beat the other, and the be