i have told you what befell will and george burton when they made their attempt to find out who had kindled the camp fire in the valley below the ridge on which they halted. but the experience of jack gedney was the strangest of all.

you have learned enough about this boy to admit that he was bright and alert, and that when he moved through the woods he always kept his senses about him. like his friend will, he thought it best to pass slightly beyond the camp before approaching it, though for myself i cannot see the reason for such a course.

instead, therefore, of taking the most direct route, he moved to the left, so that, when opposite to the wyandots, he was really farther away from them than while on the ridge. the distance was such indeed that he failed to hear the signal of will, who supposed it was loud enough to travel a long way through the wilderness.

pausing for a moment, jack carefully looked about him, and even among the tops of the trees. the only living thing which he saw was a huge rattlesnake, that was crawling by a stump a few yards away. like the majority of mankind, the first prompting of the lad was to rush forward and kill the reptile. in fact, he started to do so.

instantly the serpent twisted itself into a coil, and with its head rearing from the centre, shook its rattle as an invitation to attack. jack could have easily shot off its head, and he would have been glad to do so, for it was an unusually large and repulsive pest, but to fire his gun at such a time would have been an imprudence for which there could be no excuse.

"i'll let you go," he said, looking steadily at it for a few seconds; "but it's well for you that i didn't meet you before i knew anything about this camp."

the crotalus species is easily killed, but this specimen, finding its invitation to a fight not accepted, unwound, and crawled off.

seeing and hearing nothing, jack began moving towards the camp, though, like his friends, he was unable to see anything of the smoke that was their guide when they halted on the crest of the ridge. he had travelled through the forest long enough, however, to keep his bearings, and he was sure that he was going in a straight line for the camp, which, he was almost equally sure, belonged to the wyandot tribe of indians.

"it will be odd if i find hua-awa-oma there," he said to himself, while stealthily picking his way. "i wonder what he would say if i should walk up to him and offer my hand? i am afraid he wouldn't be so kind as he was a while ago."

the boy was stepping in this guarded manner, as wide awake as ever, when, like will, his toe caught in one of the running vines close to the ground, and he stumbled forward. he did not fall, though he came very near doing so. his head was thrown forward and downward in his effort to check himself.

no accident could have been more fortunate for it saved jack's life. at the very instant of stumbling he heard the twang of a bow-string, and the missile which was aimed at him, whizzed over his shoulder and was buried in the trunk of a tree beyond.

in obedience to a thought that came like an inspiration to him, the boy allowed himself to fall forward on his hands and knees, where he remained motionless for several seconds. turning his head he saw the arrow that had missed him by a hair's-breadth with its head buried deep in the bark, while the feathered shaft was still quivering from the force of the impact.

the missile was fired by arowaka, who, in returning to camp, caught sight of his enemy in front of him. seeing him fall at the moment the arrow left his hand, and failing to note where it went, the young savage thought the lad had been fatally pierced by the shaft. whipping out his knife, he ran forward with the intention of taking the scalp from his victim.

he had but a short distance to go when he caught sight of the white boy, who, instead of lying on the ground in his death struggles, was kneeling on one knee, with his cocked rifle levelled at the head of the young wyandot.

the latter, with a terrified "hoof!" stopped as if shot, and stood transfixed, absolutely unable to stir. he saw he was at the mercy of his foe, who he did not believe would spare his life for a dozen seconds.

"arowaka, you're mine!" said jack, slowly rising to his feet, but keeping his gun levelled.

the words seemed to rouse the senses of the indian youth, who dropped his bow, folded his arms, and, throwing his shoulders back as he faced his conqueror, said in a low, firm voice--

"arowaka ready! he die like warrior!"

there was a heroism in the pose and words of the youthful wyandot which thrilled jack gedney. almost any one would have started to run, or, seeing there was no hope in doing so, would have begged for mercy. the indian did neither, but, the son of a sachem as he was, he proved that he could die like the bravest of his people.

but, bless your heart, jack had not the least wish to harm him. the law of the border would have told him to shoot him, since the action of the indian proved him to be a mortal enemy, and one who, unwilling to show mercy himself, did not deserve that any should be shown to him.

jack would have done his utmost to slay the young savage had they met in mortal combat, but the check came before that point was reached. and, again, he was touched by the cool daring of arowaka.

hardly were the words spoken by the indian when jack lowered his gun, softly letting down the hammer, and said, with a smile--

"arowaka, let us be friends."

as he spoke, he stepped forward and offered his hand to the young wyandot.

you would have been entertained could you have seen the face of arowaka when he grasped the meaning of the words and actions of his conqueror. the paint smeared over his countenance could not hide the expressions of bewilderment, of wonder, and then of delight, that succeeded each other so quickly that he extended his own hand, and shook that of jack with a warmth of pressure which made him wince.

"arowaka love jack."

there was no mistaking the depth of feeling that prompted these words, spoken in a low voice, in which there was a quaver that was not there when he declared himself ready to die.

the indian felt that the youth who had overthrown him in the wrestling bout, and whose death he had treacherously attempted, had now given back his own life to him. that stratum of gratitude which, though hidden deeper in some hearts than others, nevertheless is there, and can be reached, had been found by jack. the burning hatred of arowaka for the youth was now turned to love.

the american might feel an enmity for ever toward the caucasian, but against this single member of that race he could never know aught but deep affection.

i tell you, boys and girls, there is nothing like kindness and charity in winning the hearts of your enemies. make the test, and prove it for yourselves.

at the moment the two youths of different blood stood with hands clasped and looking in each other's face, a third party silently pressed forward into sight.

he was hua-awa-oma, the chieftain, and father of arowaka.

he must have been surprised by the sight, knowing how resentful his son felt towards the white youth for overthrowing him, but the explanation was quickly made.

it seemed that hua-awa-oma and his son had started out on a scout together (a number of warriors being similarly employed), when the former decided to return to camp. he directed his son to take a different route from his own, and thus it came about that they met as they did in the vicinity of the war party.

arowaka dropped the hand of his new friend, and turning to his father, told him the story.

of course, jack did not understand a word spoken, but the language of the american indian is largely made up of gesture, and our young friend was sure of the general run of the story.

he-who-fights-without-falling (which, you know, was the meaning in english of the name of hua-awa-oma) looked straight in the face of the narrator while he was speaking, but did not utter a word. jack, however, noted the gleam of his eye, and he knew that whatever it might mean, it signified no harm to him.

the story was a brief one; but as the christian kindness of jack went home to the heart of the son, so did the touching narrative thereof stir the deepest feelings of the swarthy heathen who had wrenched the hair from the head of more than one quivering victim, and sunk his tomahawk into the brain of more than one poor wretch pleading for mercy.

when arowaka ceased, his parent turned towards jack and reached out his hand.

"brave yenghese--great warrior--hua-awa-oma love him; no wyandot hurt jack--no hurt people of jack!"

the meaning of the last remark was not fully understood by the lad until years afterwards. i will tell you about it later on.

"i am glad that hua-awa-oma is a friend to me. i love arowaka, and we shall never try to hurt each other. i will do anything i can for hua-awa-oma or for arowaka."

and now followed such a singular proceeding, that i must take another chapter to tell you about it.