And to this day Nat cannot be made to believe that he was instrumental in introducing the pipe into his gun.
After a few more unimportant remarks, the conversation ceased. Nat’s adventure began to appear to me in a different light from that in which I had viewed it at first. I doubted not but that he was perfectly honest and truthful in what he said. But why, when exposed to the will of the savage, did he escape unscathed? Why did the latter stand fearless and harmless before him? And what meant these strange signs, these “footprints,” which were becoming visible around us? Matters were assuming a puzzling form. We were being environed by Indians without any evidence of hostility upon their part. What meant it? Surely there was a meaning too deep and hidden for us to divine as yet.
Suddenly Nat spoke.
“Don’t you remember the canoe? We were going to hunt for that to-day!”
“Ah! how did I forget that? But had we not better wait till Biddon returns?”
“No; let us go at once. Hark! what’s that?”
I held my breath, as the distant report of a rifle reached our ears. The next instant came a sound, faint and far away yet clear and distinct—a horrid, unearthly sound, as the cry of a being in mortal agony!