do so.

"If the wolf or buffalo crosses the path of Lone Bear, he does not turn
aside."

"No; he runs over him."

"Even though he be a warrior, Lone Bear goes over him, as though he were
not there."

The party of the third part began to see the drift of these comments,
and he glared as though debating which one to slay first.

"Lone Bear has a kind heart; it is like that of the squaw that presses
her pappoose to her heart."

"He is kinder than the squaw, for he lies still and lets the Shawanoe
rest his weary foot on his head."

Lone Bear glowered from one to the other, as they spoke in turn, and
kept his hand on his knife at his girdle, as if to warn them they were
going too far. They seemed to hold him in little fear, however, and
continued their mock sympathy. One walked to where the tomahawk had lain
untouched since it left the hand of the Pawnee, and, picking it up,
examined it with much care.

"There is no blood on it," he remarked, as if talking to himself, but
making sure he spoke loud enough for the other to hear; "we were
mistaken when we thought it went through the body of the Shawanoe; the
hand of Lone Bear trembles like that of an old man, and he can not drive
his tomahawk into the tree which he reaches with his hand."

The black eyes of the Pawnees sparkled, and they seemed on the point
several times of breaking into laughter, but managed to restrain
themselves.

Still resting his hand on his knife, Lone Bear directed his first remark
to the last speaker.

"Let Red Wolf keep his tongue; he talks like the pappoose."

Red Wolf, however, did not seem to be alarmed. He glanced into the face
of his companion and added:

"Though Red Wolf talks like the pappoose, his heart is not so faint that
he lies on the ground, that his enemy may have a _soft place_ where he
may rest his moccasin."

This, beyond question, was a severe remark, and, as the two broke again
into laughter, Lone Bear was almost as angry as when he took a header
over the body of the Shawanoe; but the warriors were as brave as he;
without reply, he turned sullenly away, and walked toward the camp fire
which he had left a short time before.

CHAPTER VI.

A DOUBLE FAILURE.

Deerfoot the Shawanoe darted among the trees and ran a hundred yards
with great swiftness. He seemed to avoid the trunks and limbs with the
ease of a bird when sailing through the tree tops.

Coming to a halt, he looked around. He had not followed a