"Yes, yes," the boy a.s.sented readily. "I won't leave you. Don't you be afraid of that."

"It is well, for Red Fox would speak before he go. He would speak true words to the pale-face. He spoke forked words like serpent tongue when he say that white man sent Red Fox to bring papooses to Indian camp. But he speak well now when he say white men with Mighty Hand now----"

"_Safe?_" exclaimed Holden, as the information came to him with sudden joy and sudden dread.

And the answer was at once a relief and double anxiety.

"White men safe--now. But before another sun they--they die----"

"Die?" was the exclamation of horror that greeted this announcement.

"Yes," the Indian answered. "Dacotahs foolish. They say white men spirits that brought great trouble of water to Indian. They say that serpent totem call them to Pleasant Valley, and there they burn unless serpent appear to save them from fire." Here the Indian seemed to gather strength, for, without allowing the horrified boy time for utterance, he slightly raised himself and spoke with a flash of energy.

"But white boy brave--white boy good. He kind to Red Fox who would have used cruel knife. But Red Fox no' papoose now. He know that white boy too brave to suffer; Red Fox too bad to live. And he would save the pale-face man--

"Go, my brother--go to the village of the Dacotahs and find Thunder-maker, the Medicine Man. Tell him that Red Fox die sorry that he made bad promise--that before he die he bid Thunder-maker speak true to foolish Dacotahs, and tell that white men no' spirits. Thunder-maker know. Thunder-maker can save white men, and----"

The last word choked in the Indian's throat. He gave a gasp, fell back into Alf's arms, while his eyes looked up hungrily into the lad's face.

"Be brave!" whispered the boy. "Be brave, Red Fox. Manito waits for you.

I have forgiven you; He has forgiven you. All will be well."

"Red Fox understand. He--happy----" were the last words that the poor misguided redman spoke, as he died gazing lovingly in his young friend's tear-clouded eyes.

And it was thus that Bob found his chum--tenderly holding his red brother in his arms while the great journey was taken to Manito's happy land for the sorrowful.

CHAPTER XVIII

HOT ON THE TRAIL

It was a happy meeting for the two chums after the exciting events that each had experienced. But it was rather sad, all the same; for even in their joy at finding how both had come through their trials with but little damage, they could not but regret the tragic end to poor Red Fox.

"He was a high-tempered chap," said Arnold, when he had listened to his friend's story. "All the same, he must have had some good in him, since he was so completely changed at the end."

"He seemed sorry enough," Alf rejoined. "And I must say that I feel wretchedly sorry about the whole thing. In a way it was my fault--making the remarks that I did. It never occurred to me that he would understand a word----"

"As apparently he did. However, it can't be helped now. No doubt he had some evil purpose all along, or he wouldn't have come to us with that lie about being sent by your father and mine."

"At the same time it has taught me a lesson," said Alf. "I guess I'll keep my opinions to myself next time, when they are so uncomplimentary."

"Just as well," Bob agreed seriously. Then, turning to the dead Indian: "We've got to lay that poor redskin to rest. I wonder how we are to manage it!"

"We can't dig----"

"And we can't leave the body uncovered. The wolves would work mischief in no time."

"How would it be if we were to lay him in that little hollow and cover him with big stones?" suggested Holden. "There are plenty of boulders about, and we could easily cover him with branches first, with stones on the top, to keep off the animals."

"Right," Bob said; and together the lads gently raised the Indian's body and placed it in a little flower-scented hollow that, after all, was a fitting bed to receive the royal dead--quite as fitting as a dark pit.

Then they cast maple branches over it, and carried boulders until a substantial mound was raised.

And when all was completed as well as they were able to do it, instinctively both lads knelt beside the grave and prayed for a few minutes in silence. And the birds overhead sang their hymns to unite in the service--happy songs of gladness they sang, that seemed to convey to the boys' hearts the grand lesson of all funeral services--that death is not all sadness, for we know of the joy that follows.

There was nothing more to be done now but to return to camp. Mackintosh had probably returned by this time, and he or Haggis would be able to guide to the Dacotah village on the urgent errand. So the broncho was caught. It had never wandered far after the recovery from its fright, which was probably due to the sudden appearance of a wolf in the scrub; and before long the chums were on the home trail, taking it in turn to ride the horse.

Camp was reached about noon, and the boys were greeted at the tent by the Scot.

"Where in the world have you two laddies been?" he immediately questioned. "Here's Haggis and me (to say no' a word about Bannock) returned at breakfast-time to find no' a single body at the camp. No'

that time has been wasted, for we would have rested till dinner in any case. But it's foolish tiring yoursels like this when there's hard work before you. Pleasure is all very well----"

"We've been on no pleasure trip," interrupted Alf, with a sad smile. "It has been anything but pleasure to Arnold and me."

Thereupon Holden immediately launched into the story of his adventure and his chum's--a tale that was listened to with silent surprise both by Mackintosh and the half-breed, who had come out from the tent and stood attentively apart.

"Well, well," the Scotsman commented at the close, "these are stirring times for you boys. There's no' a bit o' doot aboot that." Then he added seriously: "But I'm thinking we'll no' be able to wait here ower long.

We must set oot at once. I ken something o' this Indian legend o'

water-spirits, and I ken something o' Indian ways as well. There's evil things that will be doing if we canna stop them."

"Did you find out anything while you were away with Haggis?" questioned Bob.

"A bit. We found the tracks o' boots as well as moccasins, and we followed far enough to learn that they had gone to the Dacotah village.

Then we came back to fetch you laddies. And I found four grand specimens for my collection! Real fine they are--such as will make my brither entomologists in Edinburgh open their eyes as big as Duddingston Loch when they see them. But there--I must be daft to be thinkin' o' moths at such a time. See, Haggis! Hurry on wi' the denner! We'll be striking the camp, for we must mak' straight for Pleasant Valley wi'oot delay."

The speaker was all bustle and hurry now, and as the boys followed to render a.s.sistance, Bob asked--

"Pleasant Valley? But did you not say that they were at the Dacotah village?"

"Of course I did. But I said _were_, not _are_. Did you no' attend to what your freend said--that Red Fox told him that Mighty Hand would leave for Pleasant Valley by another sun? That's the day."

"Oh, I see. Then you mean to go there direct?"

"Exactly. I ken something o' that Pleasant Valley. There's no' a verra pleasant look aboot it noo--a desert o' a place--all crags and sand, wi' just a pickle o' trees. It's a branch arm o' the Athabasca, and has been a torrent at some flood-time--the time that probably started the legend. But there's no' been ony stream flowing there in the recollection o' living man. But"--and the naturalist was predominant for the instant--"there are rare kinds o' hawk moth to be found in that same desert! You'll be seeing the value o' my phosphorus invention before another couple of nights are out."

The boys laughed as the man's enthusiasm came suddenly uppermost, to the exclusion of (to their minds) a subject of more vital importance.

"I do believe, Skipper, that you would sooner capture a rare beetle than be a Napoleon!" laughed Bob, to which the naturalist replied with scorn, as he indicated the lads to take the opposite end of the tent to roll--

"Beetle? What do you take me for--a coleopterist? Ma conscience, laddie, these insects are no interest to me. I wouldn't touch one with a pair o'

tongs. It's moths and b.u.t.terflies for Skipper Mackintosh--the dainty fluttering things that are like bits o' sunshine and beams o' the moonlight. Beetle? Speak not to me the name o' thae things o'

darkness!"

The tent was rolled and most of the other adjuncts to the camp were collected and deftly stowed on the back of the pack-horse with the neatness of expert campers. Then a hasty cold meal was taken while Mackintosh delivered his plans.

"Now, boys, listen to me. I've got to be your captain in this journey, for you'll admit that I know best. Well, I've prepared food enough for three of us for two days. Each will carry his own. Then you've got a pair o' guns and a rifle between you. That's all that you'll need. I've got my own rifle and a revolver, in case o' accidents, though I'm hoping there'll be no need for the like o' that. Now we'll start off at once.

There's no straight road from here for Pleasant Valley, but it's through bog and bush where the horse canna get wi' its burden. But it'll make four or five hours' difference to us other than by the round-about way.