A myriad of ducks flew noisily from a stream near the lake in which they were feeding as John threw a stone among them. He and Ree could have killed a score of the wild fowls had they wished to do so, but they were in no mood for it. They had not set out to hunt, and moreover, the fresh, balmy air and invigorating sunlight, together with the delightful odors of the spring-time, put upon them both a spell--a joy in living which made it seem inhuman to harm any living creature that day. This sense of gladness, of friendship with every thing the woods contained, did not, however, prevent the boys from laying plans for the capture of certain denizens of the forest's waters--the fish. They had already noticed that the lake beside which the Delawares lived, also other lakes not far away, and their own river, contained great numbers of the finny tribe, but they had been too busy with other things to try their hands at fishing. The opportunity for this fine sport, however, caused them to deeply regret that they had brought nothing in the line of fishing tackle with them. "The Indians will surely have hooks, and spears, though," John suggested. "If they haven't, we can make nets and spears too; I shouldn't be surprised if we could contrive hooks as well," Ree answered. "I wish we had a big mess of fish for dinner!" John exclaimed. "I'm hungry as a bear." His wish was realized sooner than he expected. As was their custom, the Indians at once placed food before their visitors, and the fare was just what John had wanted. There was one objection--the savages cooked the fish without cutting off the heads, but the boys did this for themselves. That they could not be over-particular in the wilderness, they had long since discovered. They learned that the Delawares had caught the fish with hooks made of bones--evidently small wish-bones, and readily saw how they could make just such hooks for themselves. Capt. Pipe himself had received the boys, and it was in his lodge that they were eating. He sat nearby gravely smoking his pipe, seldom speaking except when spoken to. Gentle Maiden, the chief's comely daughter, was sitting in a pleasant, sunny place just outside the bark hut, sewing with a coarse bone needle, on some sort of a frock, the cloth for which was from the bolt her father had secured from the young traders. "Pretty as a picture, isn't she?" John whispered, glancing toward the Indian girl. "Honestly, I never saw a white person more beautiful." Ree made no reply, for at that moment Big Buffalo put his head into the lodge. The boys had not seen him since early winter and both arose to greet him; but he ignored their action, and pausing only a second, strode haughtily away. "What does that mean?" John asked in surprise. "Has the Big Buffalo cause to be unfriendly?" inquired Ree of Capt. Pipe, wishing to call the chief's attention to the Indian's apparent hostility.