Campbell, where you will see the whole without danger. There he goes to it again; I knew he would."

Martin, who had got all the dogs collected together and fast by a piece of deer's hide, as soon as they had discovered the bear, went back with Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and the girls.

"You need have no fear, ma'am," said Martin; "the rifles won't miss their mark, and if they did, I have the dogs to let loose upon him; and I think Oscar, with the help of the others, would master him.

Down--silence, Oscar--down, dogs, down. Look at the Strawberry, ma'am, she's not afraid, she's laughing like a silver bell."

During this interval, the bear again applied to the cooler, and burned himself as before, and this time being more angry, he now gave another roar, and, as if considering that the joke had been played upon him by the party who were looking on, he made directly for them at a quick run.

"Now, John," said Malachi, "get your bead well on him, right between his eyes."

John kneeled down in front of Malachi, who had his rifle all ready; much to the horror of Mrs. Campbell, John permitted the bear to come within twenty yards of him. He then fired, and the animal fell dead without a struggle.

"A good shot, and well put in," said Malachi, going up to the bear. "Let the dogs loose, Martin, that they may worry the carca.s.s; it will do them good."

Martin did so; the dogs were permitted to pull and tear at the dead animal for a few minutes, and then taken off; in the mean time, Mr.

Campbell and the ladies had come up to where the animal lay.

"Well, ma'am, isn't John a cool shot?" said Malachi, "Could the oldest hunter have done better?"

"My dear John, you quite frightened me," said Mrs. Campbell; "why did you allow the beast to come so near to you?"

"Because I wanted to kill him dead, and not wound him," replied John.

"To be sure," replied Malachi; "to wound a bear is worse than leaving him alone."

"Well, Malachi, you certainly have made a hunter of John," said Mr.

Campbell. "I could not have supposed such courage and presence of mind in one so young."

John was very much praised, as he deserved to be, by the whole party; and then Malachi said, "The skin belongs to John, that of course."

"Is the bear good eating now?" said Mrs. Campbell.

"Not very, ma'am," replied Malachi, "for he has consumed all his fat during the winter; but we will cut off the legs for hams, and when they are salted and smoked with the other meat, you will acknowledge that a bear's ham is, at all events, a dish that any one may say is good. Come, John, where's your knife? Martin, give us a hand here, while Mr.

Campbell and the ladies go home."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

It was in the first week of June that Malachi, when he was out in the woods, perceived an Indian, who came toward him. He was a youth of about twenty or twenty-one years old, tall and slightly made; he carried his bow and arrows and his tomahawk, but had no gun. Malachi was at that time sitting down on the trunk of a fallen tree; he was not more than two miles from the house, and had gone out with his rifle without any particular intent, unless it was that, as he expected he should soon receive some communication from the Indians, he wished to give them an opportunity of speaking to him alone. The Indian came up to where Malachi was, and took a seat by him, without saying a word.

"Is my son from the West?" said Malachi, in the Indian tongue, after a silence of one or two minutes.

"The Young Otter is from the West," replied the Indian. "The old men have told him of the Gray Badger, who has lived the life of a snake, and who has hunted with the fathers of those who are now old. Does my father live with the white man?"

"He lives with the white man," replied Malachi; "he has no Indian blood in his veins."

"Has the white man many in his lodge?" said the Indian.

"Yes; many young men and many rifles," replied Malachi.

The Indian did not continue this conversation, and there was a silence of some minutes. Malachi was convinced that the young Indian had been sent to intimate that Percival was alive and in captivity, and he resolved to wait patiently till he brought up the subject.

"Does not the cold kill the white man?" said the Indian, at last.

"No; the white man can bear the winter's ice as well as an Indian. He hunts as well, and brings home venison."

"Are all who came here with him now in the white man's lodge?"

"No, not all; one white child slept in the snow, and is in the land of spirits," replied Malachi.

Here there was a pause in the conversation for some minutes; at last the young Indian said--

"A little bird sang in my ear, and it said, The white man's child is not dead; it wandered about in the woods and was lost, and the Indian found him, and took him to his wigwam in the far west."

"Did not the little bird lie to the Young Otter?" replied Malachi.

"No; the little bird sang what was true," replied the Indian. "The white boy is alive and in the lodge of the Indian."

"There are many white men in the country who have children," replied Malachi; "and children are often lost. The little bird may have sung of the child of some other white man."

"The white boy had a rifle in his hand and snow-shoes on his feet."

"So have all they who go out to hunt in the winter's snow," replied Malachi.

"But the white boy was found near to the white man's lodge."

"Then why was not the boy taken back to the white man by the Indians who found him?"

"They were going to their own wigwams and could not turn aside; besides, they feared to come near to the white man's lodge after the sun was down; as my father says he has many young men and many rifles."

"But the white man does not raise his rifle against the Indian, whether he comes by day or by night," replied Malachi. "At night he kills the prowling wolf when he comes near to the lodge."

The Indian again stopped and was silent. He knew by the words of Malachi that the wolf's skin, with which the Indian had been covered when he was crawling to the palisades and had been shot by John, had been discovered. Malachi after a while renewed the conversation.

"Is the Young Otter of a near tribe?"

"The lodges of our tribe are twelve days' journey to the westward,"

replied the Indian.

"The chief of the Young Otter's band is a great warrior?"

"He is," replied the Indian.

"Yes," replied Malachi, "The 'Angry Snake' is a great warrior. Did he send the Young Otter to me to tell me that the white boy was alive and in his wigwam?"

The Indian again paused. He perceived that Malachi knew where he came from, and from whom. At last he said--