Once or twice he stooped down and inspected the grass; and the scout and trapper thought then he had seen some faint indentations in the soil, and guessed of the trick that had been played. But the redskin retraced his way to the river, and went on, searching its shores. “Phew, Buffler! I thought it war fight, shore thing, then!” “I, too.” “I reckon we’re safe hyar, unless they come back and take a notion to look behind these trees. If they does it, thar will be dead Injuns, and fun immediately afterward.” The Blackfeet did not return. An hour passed, and then another, and nothing was seen or heard; but Cody and Nomad could not be sure that sharp eyes were not watching the cañon from some cliff or cañon precipice; hence they remained concealed in the grove, keeping the horses as quiet as possible, and talking only in low tones. Not until darkness came did they venture to leave their secure retreat. Even then they moved with the utmost caution, leading the horses instead of riding them, and progressing so slowly that hours elapsed before they came out into the open country below. There the land lay broad and free before them, and the stars pointed the way. Yet they did not ride toward the town. Instead, they turned back into the hills; for the discovery that the Blackfeet had taken the warpath under Crazy Snake made the scout fearful for the safety of a family he knew, who lived just under the shadows of the big hills. CHAPTER XIX. THE TRAGEDY OF THE CABIN. The home of John Forest was a simple and unpretentious one, but it was lighted by the beauty of a girl whom he loved as his own life, his daughter Lena. Forest was lured by that witch of the world--gold. He believed he had found gold at the foot of Big Tom Mountain, gold in quantities to pay not only for working the mine he soon opened there, but enough to make him rich. He had a brother who had found good ore in a region not many miles away, and his brother’s success encouraged him to “stick it out” even to the bitter end. The country was forbidding, and the Blackfeet were not far away; yet Forest established his home under the shadow of the mountain, installed in it his daughter as his housekeeper, and set to work. Like many mines, there was far more promise in the Lady Bird, as he called it, than there was performance. He took out barely enough gold to give him a living and supply him with tools and blasting powder. Daily he kept hoping to strike the “mother lode,” or a seam of gold, or, perhaps, a pocket of nuggets. He paid little heed to the Blackfeet. As for callers or visitors, he had a few; one of them being young Bruce Clayton, who had fallen in love with the beautiful face of the miner’s daughter, and who came there as frequently as his new “job” permitted.