OINT.

A CRITICAL SITUATION.

THE DEATH OF HAY-UTA.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE FOREST.

CHAPTER I.

RETROSPECTIVE.

Those of my friends who have done me the honor of reading "Campfire and
Wigwam," will need little help to recall the situation at the close of
that narrative. The German lad Otto Relstaub, having lost his horse,
while on the way from Kentucky to the territory of Louisiana (their
destination being a part of the present State of Missouri), he and his
young friend, Jack Carleton, set out to hunt for the missing animal.
Naturally enough they failed: not only that, but the two fell into the
hands of a band of wandering Sauk Indians, who held them prisoners.

Directly after the capture of the lads, their captors parted company,
five going in one direction with Jack and the other five taking a
different course with Otto. "Camp-Fire and Wigwam" gave the particulars
of what befell Jack Carleton. In this story, I propose to tell all about
the hunt that was made for the honest lad, who had few friends, and who
had been driven from his own home by the cruelty of his parents to
engage in a search which would have been laughable in its absurdity, but
for the danger that marked it from the beginning.

The youth, however, had three devoted friends in Jack Carleton, his
mother, and Deerfoot, the Shawanoe. But for the compassion which the
good woman felt for the lad, she never would have consented that her
beloved son should enter the wilderness for the purpose of bringing him
home.

One fact must be borne in mind, however, in recalling the two
expeditions. In the former Jack and Otto were the actors, but now the
hunters were Jack and Deerfoot, and therein lay all the difference in the
world. Well aware of the wonderful woodcraft of the young warrior, his
courage and devotion to his friends, the parent had little if any
misgivings, when she kissed her boy good-by, and saw him enter the
wilderness in the company of the dusky Shawanoe.

Something like a fortnight had gone by, when Deerfoot and Jack Carleton
sat near a camp-fire which had been kindled in the depths of the forest,
well to the westward of the little frontier settlement of Martinsville.
The air was crisp and cool, and two days had passed since any rain had
fallen, so the climate could not have been more favorable.

The camp was similar to many that have been described before, and with
which the reader has become familiar long ago. It was simpl