But at that moment, as a great romancer used to say, a strange thing happened. There was the sound of a turning key and the whole tribe of the Leatherskins was locked into the hut. A moment later a dreadful face appeared at the window, a face daubed with mud and overhung with grass, which drooped down from under a soft cap. The weird creature danced in triumph, and then stooped to set a light to some paper and shavings near the window. "Heavens!" cried the Chief. "It is Yellow Snake, the ferocious Chief of the Bottlenoses!" Flame and smoke were rising outside. It was excellently done and perfectly safe, but too much for the younger warriors. The key turned, the door opened, and two tearful babes were in the arms of the kneeling Lady. Red Buffalo and Black Bear were of sterner stuff. "I'm not frightened, Daddy," said Laddie, though he looked a little pale. "Nor me," cried Dimples, hurrying to get out of the hut. "We'll lock the prisoners up with no food and have a council of war upon them in the morning," said the Chief. "Perhaps we've done enough to-day." "I rather think you have," said the Lady, as she soothed the poor little sobbing figures. "That's the worst of having kids to play," said Dimples. "Fancy having a squaw in a war-party!" "Never mind, we've had a jolly good Indian game," said Laddie, as the sound of a distant bell called them all to the nursery tea. _Printed by Hazell_, _Watson & Viney_, _Ld._, _London and Aylesbury_, _England_. Footnotes: {1} The reader is referred to the Preface in connection with this story.--A. C. D.