his own presence was not
suspected.

At the proper moment he emitted the signal, which in case the Sauk was
listening, would be understood by him. It required great care, for more
than likely some shrewd Pawnee would catch it up and turn it to account,
as has been done times innumerable under similar circumstances.

There was no response, and Deerfoot did not repeat it until he had gone
some distance further. Then the whistle was emitted in the same guarded
manner, and almost immediately brought its reply. Fearful that the
latter came from a foe, Deerfoot kept his position, and, with all his
senses alert, indulged in some variations which were answered as only
Hay-uta could answer them. All doubt being gone, Deerfoot now advanced
unhesitatingly, and a minute or two later was with his friends.

CHAPTER XXVI.

AN INTERESTING QUESTION.

The faces of the Sauk and Jack Carleton lightened up, when Deerfoot
appeared, and warningly raised his finger for them to remain quiet. That
he did not mean they were in imminent peril was shown when he said, as
he took each hand in turn:

"Deerfoot is glad to look upon his brothers."

"And we needn't tell you how glad we are to see you, old fellow,"
responded Jack, modulating his voice to the same low key as that of the
Shawanoe; "you were gone so long that we began to think we would have to
hunt you up. Here, take these blamed things," he added, passing the bow
and quiver to their owner; "I never was so glad so get rid of any
thing."

The lad had shoved the hat of Otto Relstaub under his coat, where he
meant to keep it from the sight of the Shawanoe until after hearing his
story. The young warrior, convinced that no Indians were near, and that
it would require an hour and probably more for the Pawnees to trace the
little party, conversed freely.

The narrative, as may well be supposed, was one of transcendent interest
to Jack Carleton, for it was the first definite knowledge obtained of
his missing friend. The heart of the listener was filled with pitying
sorrow when he learned how Otto had been left to die alone in the
wilderness. Tears filled his eyes, his voice trembled, and he said:

"We know now that he was living a few days ago, but what hope is there
that he has lasted this long? I am afraid that the most we can do is to
give him burial--and we haven't the means to do even that very well."

The three seated themselves on the fallen tree near which the hat was