The possibility of such danger was not great, but Jack Carleton changed his position to one where he could keep a better lookout, with less danger of discovery. He was sure his friends would not be absent a long time, and he meant to avoid embarrassing their action.
"It was the sound of that gun which led Deerfoot to come all this way. I wonder what it can mean."
Jack had got this far in his meditation, when he heard a footfall near him, and, just as he turned his head, a familiar voice called out:
"Helloa, Shack, ish dot you?"
CHAPTER XXVII.
A STRANGE STORY.
The amazement of Jack Carleton, when he recognized the figure before him, was beyond description. It was Otto Relstaub—the same honest German lad from whom he parted weeks previous when the two were captives in the hands of the wandering Sauks, the divisions of which took such different directions. It was the same lad—the only noticeable difference being that he was bareheaded and his garments were much frayed and torn. He held his gun in his right hand, the stock resting on the ground, while he looked with a half-inquiring expression, as if doubting the identity of the young Kentuckian who had come such a distance to help restore him to his friends. But a second stare satisfied both, and rushing toward each other, they shook hands, laughed and cried for very joy, their expressions disjointed and only clear in their evidence of the delight which overflowed in their hearts.
"Oh, I forgot!" exclaimed Jack, drawing Otto's hat from under his coat and slapping it on the yellow crown of his friend; "here's something which belongs to you."
"Vere did you got him?" asked Otto, taking it from his head and inspecting it. "I never dinks I would sees him agin."