I OPENED my eyes in the morning to see Harry standing in my doorway." Sam Hawkins and I are going to look after the traps; will you come with us, Mr. Hildreth?" he said.

"With pleasure, only call me Jack, for I'm not so very venerable, and life's too rapid out here for ceremony," I said, jumping up.

We went out through the cleft in the rocks, turning toward the direction in which we had come yesterday. We waded the little stream downward in its course to the point where it flowed into the river. Thick briars that were really impenetrable grew on the banks of the stream, and the tendrils of the wild grape twined themselves together, reaching over to the trees, and forming a net-work through which we had to cut our way with a knife. Although no danger was to be anticipated, yet Sam, going on ahead, scanned every spot where a footprint might be discovered, and his little eyes ceaselessly turned from side to side, peering through the rich young vegetation. At last he lifted a branch, stooped down, and crawled under. Harry did the same, saying to me: "Come this way; this is our beaver path."

A small but perfectly distinct line ran through the thicket, and we crept for some distance parallel with the stream till Sam paused, and turning to us, laid his fingers on his lips.

"We are there," whispered Harry, "and the sentinel is suspicious."

After a time, during which it was profoundly still, we crept forward and reached a bend of the stream, which enabled us to watch the beaver colony. A dam about the width of a man's foot had been thrown out in the stream, and its four-footed owners were busy strengthening and increasing it. On the opposite bank I saw a crowd of industrious furry folk, gnawing the branches with their sharp teeth where they must fall in the water. Others were occupied transporting these branches, shoving them ahead of them as they swam, while others plastered their structure with rich loam which they brought from the shore, using their feet and thick tails as trowels. I watched the labor of these active little people with interest, especially one unusually big specimen sitting on the dam with the air of a sentinel. Suddenly the thick fellow pricked up his ears, half-turned, uttered a cry of warning, and the next moment disappeared under water. Instantly the others followed him, splashing the water in their sudden plunge with their flat tails. There was not time to be amused by their movements, for this unexpected disappearance meant the approach of an enemy, and the greatest enemy of these peaceable little animals is man.

As the last beaver plunged into the water we had our weapons in our hands, waiting the appearance of the intruder. We had not waited long before we saw two Indians creeping along the stream a little above us. One had several traps hung over his shoulder, the other carried a bundle of skins; both were fully armed, and looked around with an air that showed us they knew they were near an enemy.

"Confound them!" hissed Sam through his teeth. "They've found our traps. Wait, you curs, and my old gun Liddy shall tell you whose those traps and pelts are."

He raised his gun, but it was important that we should punish these fellows without noise, and I caught the trapper by the arm. I saw that they were Poncas, and the war-paint on their faces showed they were not out hunting, but were on the war-path. There were others then in the vicinity, and a shot would summon their avengers.

"Don't shoot, Sam," I whispered. "Don't you see they're on the war-path, and there are more near here? Take your knife. I'll attend to one, and you to the other."

The two Indians stood facing us, looking for footprints. Softly, very softly I crept forward, my knife between my teeth. When I reached the edge of the bush I sprang out, and used my knife so effectually on the Indian nearest me that he fell without a sound. It was necessary to do this, for they were Poncas, and if they discovered our stronghold it would cost us our lives. I drew out my knife, and turned, ready to attack the other if needed, but he lay on the ground with Sam standing astride of him, saying: "Now, young man, you may take as many skins in the Happy Hunting Grounds as you please, but you can't have ours!"

"We must hide these Indians' bodies, Sam," I said.

"You're right. I'll bet my moccasins to dancing pumps there'll be red men here in a little while."

Accordingly we concealed the bodies of the Indians, and while Sam returned to the valley to warn our people, Harry and I crept forward in the thicket to discover

how the land lay. We made our way onward for an hour without interruption, and came to a second beaver colony, but its inhabitants were not visible outside their dwellings.

"Here was where we put those traps that the Indians stole. You see the trail leads into the woods from here; we must follow it," whispered Harry.

"I wish you would go back, and let me do this alone, Harry," I said.

"How can you think of such a thing?" asked the boy.

"Do you realize how dangerous it may be?"

"Why shouldn't I? It can't be more so than the things I have done already. I'm going anyhow, so don't bother."

We went on then, leaving the stream, and stepping softly between the slender trunks of the tall forest which formed a thick green roof over the moss-grown earth, in which we could see the trail only by the closest scrutiny. Harry, who had gone ahead, stopped. The trail was no longer that of two, but of four men, who had come to this point together, and had separated here. The two whom we had disposed of had been so fully armed that I concluded a large number of their tribe was near, such as could only be called out by an important enterprise, and it occurred to me that this undertaking might be revenge for our rescue of the train.

"What shall we do?" asked Harry. "This new trail leads to our camp, which we mustn't expose to discovery. Shall we follow that one going there, or keep on with the big trail?"

"This fourfold trail leads to the redskins' camp, who

have hidden, of course, to wait the return of their spies. Before all things we must seek that out to find out their number, and intentions. The entrance to our little stronghold is guarded by a sentinel, who will do his utmost to keep our secret, and we must leave it to him."

"You are right; let us go on."

The woods extended from the height in which the valley began, considerable distance in the plain, and was cut through with deep, rocky furrows in which grew ferns and wild berry vines. As we approached one of these depressions I noticed a smell of something burning, and looking sharply for its cause, discovered a thin cloud of smoke rising from the crown of trees on the edge and which was often interrupted or entirely disappeared in fluttering pennons. This smoke could only come from an Indian fire, for while the whites throw their wood on the flames in its full length, thus getting a broad, high flame which makes a smoke that often betrays them, the savage uses only the ends of chopped wood, and gets a little flame, with scarcely perceptible smoke. Winnetou used to say that "the white man made his fire so hot that he could not sit by it to get warm."

I held Harry back, and bade him hide behind a bush while I took a peep at these people.

"Why shouldn't I go too?" he demanded.

"One is enough, and two doubles the risk of discovery."

He nodded assent, and slipped cautiously into his hiding-place, while I, keeping concealed from tree to tree, crawled up to the furrow whence the smoke had come. Sitting, or rather lying on the ground, closely huddled together, was such a crowd of Indians that the

eye could scarcely penetrate its masses. At the exit of the camp were sentinels, perfectly unconscious of my proximity. I tried to count them, and had run my eye over half of them, when I stopped in utter amazement. Nearest to the fire sat -- could it be possible? -- the white chief Paranoh, Tim Finnerty. I had seen his face so plainly by the light of the moon on the night when I thought I killed him, that I could not be mistaken, and yet I could not trust my eyes, for the scalp lock which I knew was hanging on Winnetou's belt apparently was back again on his head.

The sentinel who stood nearest me turned toward the place where I lay concealed, so I slipped back, signaled Harry to follow me, and returned to the place where the trail divided. From here we followed the new tracks which led through the thickest growth of foliage straight to the valley. It was clear to me now that the Poncas had been reinforced and were following us step by step for revenge. Our delay during Old Firehand's illness had given them time to call together all their available force. But why they had gathered such a force against three, why they had not fallen upon us long ago, instead of letting us withdraw peacefully I could not understand, unless Paranoh knew of the trapper colony, and meant to destroy it. There was no trouble in keeping this trail, and we made good time into the valley. We met Sam Hawkins near its entrance, and when I told him what I had seen, he shook his head dubiously. "It will cost powder, my boy; much powder. I came along with my pelts to the brook, and I plainly saw two redskins spying around the edge of the bushes, scarcely eight feet away. I got under cover, and let them go ahead, one up and one

down the valley. I bet they got a warm reception. I've been waiting here ever since to ask them, politely, what they had seen."

"Do you think they will come back this way?"

"Sure. If you want to be sly you'll go over to the other side, so we can catch them between us."

I followed this suggestion, and Harry and I took up our position directly opposite to Sam, and waited the return of the Indian spies. Our patience was well tested. Fully an hour passed before we heard the soft fall of a gliding step. It was a weather-beaten fellow, who could scarcely find room at his belt for the scalps he carried. As soon as he was within reach I sprang out, and settled him, as we did his companion who appeared shortly, and then we returned to the village.

Old Firehand heard my story to the end in silence, but when I told him of Paranoh an exclamation of surprise, and of joy too, escaped him. "Is it possible you weren't mistaken?" he asked.

"Only his hair makes me doubtful."

"Oh, that proves nothing. Sam Hawkins is an example of a man's living through scalping, and it's quite possible your aim was not quite true that night. His people found him, and took him away. While I was recovering, he was getting well too, and he has watched us, and followed us. Are you tired, Jack?"

"No."

"I must see the man myself; will you go with me?"

"Of course I will, only I must remind you of the danger in going. The Indians after waiting in vain for their spies to return, will come out to look for them. We may be cut off from our own people."

"It's possible, but I can't wait here quietly till they

find us. Dick Stone, get your gun; we're going to look for redskins. Harry, stay with Will Parker, and look after the guns while we're gone."

Harry begged to be allowed to go with us, but his father would not hear of it, and we set out through the bed of the brook. Winnetou had left the camp shortly after our early start for the traps, and had not returned. He would have been the most welcome addition to our party of three, and I could not help feeling a little anxious about him, for he too might have encountered the Indians, and alone. Even as I was thus meditating a bush in front of us parted, and the Apache stood before us. Our hands, which at the first rustle of the branches had sought our weapons, relaxed as we heard him say: "Winnetou will go with his brothers to look for Paranoh and the Poncas." We looked at him in surprise.

"Has my brother seen the warriors in their camp?" I asked.

"Winnetou must watch over his brother, Old Shatterhand, and over the son of Ribanna," he replied. "He went behind them, and saw their knives pierce the hearts of the red warriors. Paranoh has taken for his own the hair of a son of the Osages. His hair is a lie, and his thoughts are full of falsehood."

I scarcely heard his last words, for at that very moment I saw two eyes gleaming behind the bushes, and with a quick spring had seized the man to whom they belonged. It was he whom we sought Paranoh! As I tightened my fingers around his throat there was a rustle on both sides, and a band of Indians sprang out to help their chief. My friends had seen my movement, and were ready for my assailants. I had the

white chief down with my knee on his breast, the fingers of my left hand around his neck, and the right holding his hand which had seized his knife. He squirmed under me like a worm, trying to throw me off. Bracing his feet, he tried to raise himself; his long false scalp lock lay beneath him, and his bloodshot eyes rolled in their sockets; he foamed at the mouth with rage, and the head stripped by Winnetou's knife swelled and pulsated with his struggles. I felt as though I had a raging beast under me, and choked him till he drew himself together convulsively, his head dropped, his eyes closed, with one last shudder his limbs stretched out -- he was conquered.

Rising, I looked around upon a scene that no pen could ever describe. None of the combatants had any other weapon than a knife or tomahawk, except Dick Stone. Not a man stood upright, but all were struggling and twisting on the ground in his own blood, or his opponent's. Winnetou was about to plunge his knife into a foe whom he had overcome, and did not need me. Old Firehand lay on one of his assailants, trying to keep off a second who had wounded him in the arm. I hastened to his assistance, and knocked the Indian down with his own tomahawk, which he had dropped. Then I went to Dick Stone, who lay between two dead Indians under a gigantic man who was striving with all his might to deal him a fatal blow. He did not succeed; his comrade's tomahawk, which I had just used, put an end to his attempt. Stone arose, and straightened himself. "By George, that was help at the right time; three against one is tough. Much obliged."

Old Firehand too stretched out his hand to me, and

was about to speak when he discovered Paranoh. "Tim Finnerty? Is it possible? Who did him up?" he exclaimed.

Winnetou answered for me: "Old Shatterhand overcame him. The Great Spirit has given him the strength of the buffalo that ploughs the earth with his horns. But Paranoh's people will come after him, and my brothers must quickly follow Winnetou to the valley."

"He's right," said Old Firehand, from whose arm the blood was streaming. "But we must first remove the traces of this fight. Go ahead, Dick, and see we're not surprised."

"I will, only take this knife out of my flesh first, will you? I can't do much with this thing in me." One of his foes had stabbed him, and during the struggle the blade had been driven farther in. Fortunately it was not in a dangerous spot, and when it was withdrawn left a wound that to Dick's cast-iron constitution was a mere trifle.

"How shall we take our prisoner away?" asked Old Firehand after we had done what was necessary, and recalled Dick.

"That's simple enough," said Stone. He cut off a quantity of withes from the roots near us, took off Paranoh's coat, cut it into strips, and nodding to us with satisfaction, said: "Make a drag, and bind the darling on it fast, and haul him along."

We followed his suggestion, and soon were under way, Winnetou coming behind to remove the broad track this invention left. Yet though we reached the valley safely, and with Old Firehand's mortal foe a prisoner in our hands, we felt, Winnetou and I at least, that we had not seen the last of our enemies the Poncas.