g like so many spokes of a wheel. The course of the last
named, if persisted in, would take him within a hundred feet of the tree
behind which the Shawanoe screened himself.

What rendered this prospect more gratifying was the fact that this
Pawnee was Lone Bear, the very warrior whom the Shawanoe was so eager to
detach from the main party, so as to gain the chance to "operate" on
him; the opportunity he sought was thrust into his hands so unexpectedly
that he believed it was in answer to his prayer.

It would seem that Deerfoot ought not to have found any difficulty in
manipulating matters to suit himself, but his situation was
exceptionally delicate; for, above everything else, it was necessary
that he should not be discovered, or have his presence suspected. It
would seem, however, that the signal should have given the clew.

Lone Bear had started on a scout, and, recalling his experience on the
other side of the river, he was sure to put forth all the cunning of his
nature to escape any surprise from his enemies. He was alert, and
glanced from side to side, and indeed in all directions, while advancing
on a slow, loping trot. It was easy enough to avoid discovery from him,
but, in moving round the trunk of the tree (so as to interpose it as a
guard), there came a time when the Shawanoe was likely to be seen by the
main party, which was not only close, but showed no hurry to move on.

This danger was avoided by Deerfoot with characteristic deftness. He lay
flat on his face, in which posture he could not be detected by any one a
dozen yards away, and skillfully shifted his position until the back of
Lone Bear was toward him. Peering around the trunk, he kept his eyes on
the Pawnee until the intervening trees and vegetation shut him from
sight. Then Deerfoot rose to his feet, and took his trail like a
bloodhound.

The Shawanoe felt the battle was won. There could be no doubt that Lone
Bear had started on the same errand as the other two--that of scouting
through the neighborhood for the main party of Pawnees. Deerfoot might
have wondered that he should do so, after the wild panic into which he
had been thrown by him, but like enough he felt the need of some such
action in order to repair his damaged reputation. It was not impossible
that he volunteered for the perilous duty.

But having taken such a step, it must not be supposed that Lone Bear
forgot the perils to which he would be exposed. His vigilance was
unre