hat he had not been able to
learn any thing about Otto, and that he saw no chance of doing so. He
was loth to make such acknowledgment, and he determined not to do so,
until after making at least one more attempt to force the truth from
some member of the war party.

The afternoon was well advanced when he appeared in the camp of the
hostiles, and it would seem that the incidents which took place ought to
have carried him close to nightfall. But I must repeat that on account
of their hurricane-like rush, they took a small amount of time, and now,
when he found himself free of his pursuers, the sun was yet a couple of
hours above the horizon. Enough daylight remained for him to do a large
amount of work, always provided the work presented itself to be done.

He decided to take another survey of the camp before returning, in the
hope that possibly some "material" for labor awaited him. A quick survey
of his surroundings caused him to locate himself. The camp was not far
off, and he began making his way toward it.

In doing so he did not steal forward with the slow caution which his
race generally show when approaching an enemy, but he advanced briskly
among the trees, though his motion was as noiseless as that of the
shadow of the cloud overhead.

CHAPTER IX.

TWO PAWNEES ARE ASTONISHED.

Among all the chagrined Pawnees, there was none so humiliated as Lone
Bear, who had been thrown headlong by the trick of the young Shawanoe
dropping in front of him. That was bad enough, but it was made a
hundred-fold worse when Deerfoot stepped on the crown of his head before
he could rise, or prevent it. It was Red Wolf who cruelly remarked that
the reason for the youth taking that step was that he might have a _soft
place_ whereon to rest his moccasin.

Instead of replying to the chaffings of his two companions, Lone Bear
sat on a pile of fagots in the deserted camp, and smoked his pipe in
silence.

Red Wolf and the other Pawnee sat near, but neither lighted his pipe.
They had done all they cared to do in the way of tantalizing their
comrade, who had spent a part of his early boyhood among the Shawanoes
on the other side of the Mississippi. They saw he was in an ugly mood,
and would be likely to fight if provoked further. Though they did not
hold him in fear, they did not seek a quarrel. Besides, too, they saw
the serious side to the business: Deerfoot had already proved that he
was a remarkable warrior, for, amid th