ile and
the twinkle of his black eyes, and knew he was quizzing him. Assuming a
seriousness which deceived no one, the doughty Kentuckian deliberately
leaned his gun against the nearest tree, pretended to roll up his
sleeves, spat on his hands, rubbed them together and clenched them and
advanced threateningly upon the Shawanoe. The latter feigned alarm, and,
ducking his head, as if to dodge the threatened blow, ran away so
swiftly that before Jack could take more than half a dozen steps in
pursuit, he was out of sight.

Hay-uta could not be considered handsome, but the smile which lighted up
his features made them interesting, to say the least. When he grinned,
he did so to the extent of his ability, which was considerable in that
direction.

But the Sauk had been assigned to an important duty, and the Shawanoe
having departed, he did not linger. He waved a parting salute to Jack
Carleton, who, a few minutes later, found himself alone, much the same
as he had been left when Shawanoe and Sauk crossed the river to
reconnoiter the Pawnee camp.

"There's one thing certain," he said to himself, recalling the
parallelism, "whatever happens, I won't be caught as I was then; I'm not
going to climb a tree, and I mean to hold fast to my gun; but we have
come so far from the river that we must be a long ways from that party
of Pawnees, unless," he reflected, glancing to the rear, "they have
struck our trail and have followed hard after us."

The possibility of such danger was not great, but Jack Carleton changed
his position to one where he could keep a better lookout, with less
danger of discovery. He was sure his friends would not be absent a long
time, and he meant to avoid embarrassing their action.

"It was the sound of that gun which led Deerfoot to come all this way. I
wonder what it can mean."

Jack had got this far in his meditation, when he heard a footfall near
him, and, just as he turned his head, a familiar voice called out:

"_Helloa, Shack, ish dot you?_"

CHAPTER XXVII.

A STRANGE STORY.

The amazement of Jack Carleton, when he recognized the figure before
him, was beyond description. It was Otto Relstaub--the same honest
German lad from whom he parted weeks previous when the two were captives
in the hands of the wandering Sauks, the divisions of which took such
different directions. It was the same lad--the only noticeable
difference being that he was bareheaded and his garments were much
fra