When they came to count, they found that they had killed seven. The Indian was in the best of spirits, and so was his companion. Me lucky, said the Indian. Me got seven skins. They worth seven dollars. That buy me piles of fire water, powder and lead. Whoop! Whoop! Seven skins was all the Indian could carry, and it was resolved to return, Tom to the cabin, and the Indian to Minisink to get powder, fire water and lead. The skins were securely fastened on his back, and they started. But the Indian never reached the settlement. They had not traveled far before the report of Tom’s gun was heard, and down went the Indian, the ball having gone through the seven skins and penetrated his heart. It was not long after this that another Indian came to the house where Tom was stopping and asked permission to stay all night, which was granted. He professed to be very friendly, but Tom’s quick eye soon discovered that all was not right. During the evening the savage pretended that he had seen a great many deer a few miles off, and asked Tom if he wouldn’t like to go the next day and kill some of them. Tom pretended that he was pleased with the offer, and at once agreed to go with the Indian. But Tom was on the alert. He was well convinced that some Indian deviltry lay behind this pretended friendship, and acted accordingly. During the night he managed to get the Indian’s rifle and draw the charge and substituted ashes in the place of powder, put the ball back in the barrel, and placed the rifle carefully back where he got it. The next morning the savage slyly inserted the ramrod in the barrel of his rifle, examined the priming, picked the flint and seemed satisfied that all was right. During this time Tom watched him intently and was more than ever convinced that the Indian intended to take his life. But he manifested no particular interest and started out on the hunt with no apparent concern. The snow was deep and the hunters found it inconvenient to travel through it, and to make the walking easier the Indian proposed that one of them should go ahead to break the path. To this Tom readily agreed and started on ahead. A twinkle of the eye showed that the Indian was pleased, but Tom’s keen eye had observed that twinkle and the satisfaction that beamed on the Indian’s countenance. When they had proceeded a mile or two and had come to a very lonely place Tom heard the Indian’s gun snap and the powder flash in the pan, and looking back, asked the Indian what he had fired at. A fine buck, was his reply. The Indian reprimed his gun and they started on. In a few minutes Tom heard another snap and flash. Well, brother, what did you see this time? An eagle swept over the forest, replied the disappointed savage, at the same time priming his gun. Brother Indian, said Tom, the snow is deep and I am tired.