"Why don't you go to sleep, Henry?" asked his uncle. "You'll be tired out when it comes your turn to go on guard."
"I don't feel a bit like sleeping, Uncle Jim. I'm as wide awake as an owl."
"Better lie down, anyway. It's a good night for sleeping."
"I can't get those Indians out of my mind," went on the youth.
To this James Morris did not answer, and presently Henry left the main building of the post and walked back to the stable, to get a pair of gloves which he had forgotten.
As he passed the horses one of the animals gave an uncertain snort, as of fear. The youth stopped by his side and patted him.
"What is it, Nelson?" he asked softly.
But the horse could not answer and merely rubbed his nose against Henry's face. The youth patted him again and then passed on, secured the gloves, and prepare to leave the stable.
"Guess I'll take a look at that bundle of skins," he said to himself. "It won't do any harm to turn it over and see what it looks like."
Henry's experience as a hunter and trapper had given him a good idea of the value of hides and furs, and James Morris often appealed to him when in doubt over a certain skin that was offered in trade. He had seen a peculiar looking skin sticking from the end of the bundle and he wondered what it was and if it was of great value.