What track is that? pointing to an indenture in the ground. My eyes begin to fail me. That is the print of a moccasin, said Drake. Is it a Salamanque? ejaculated Cahoonshee. I think not, said Quick. It is a new track to me. It is neither Salamanque or Delaware. Here, Drake, look at it with your young eyes. Drake got down on his knees and examined it for several minutes. Then rising, called Rolla. Cahoonshee, said Drake, did you ever see the print of a moccasin worn by a Stockbridge? If my memory serves me right, the print was made by one of the tribe that stole me from my parents. For what purpose are they in these parts? Cahoonshee then examined the tracks. It is many years since I have seen a Stockbridge or their tracks, but I think Drake is right. You fell the tree, and Rolla and I will follow the trail and learn their number. You, Quick, go to the top of the bluff and keep a good lookout for the enemy, for such I take them to be. You boys plug the hole and chop the tree down. Tom climbed the tree, carrying with him a quantity of moss dipped in tar, and plastered it over the hole, thus effectively preventing the bees from coming out. Then returning to the ground, he and Drake went vigorously to work to chop the tree down. About this time Cahoonshee returned and reported that there were five Indians in the party, and were going towards the Mongaup. The party now proceeded to smother the bees, by smoking them with brimstone. This was soon accomplished, and several pails were filled with honey, then the party started to return. As they were crossing the Shinglekill about half a mile from the cabin, Rolla gave three loud barks and jumped towards Drake. That is the bark the dog always gives when he sees or hears Amy, said Tom. And here, said Drake, is the moccasin track again. I fear that this forbodes trouble for those we left in the cabin. Look to the priming in your guns, and be quick. There is no time to lose, said Cahoonshee. This was a dark and adventurous day for Amy. When the party left in the morning, she began to realize how lonesome she would be without Drake. Although she claimed that Walter Wallace owned her whole heart, and none but him should ever call her wife, yet to part from Drake, even for a short time, gave her pain. She began to doubt her constancy for Walter, and admitted to herself that Drake occupied a small corner of her heart. Yet she was determined to be cheerful, and that the parting between her and Drake should be of an affectionate character. To that end, she put on her blue flannel dress, decked herself with flowers, braided her long, flowing hair, over which she placed her gypsy hat, and took a chair beside Betsy to await their return. She had hardly seated herself, when she heard the squirrels chattering in the butternut trees in front of the cabin. I am going to shoot one of those squirrels, she said to Betsy. Oh no, child, don’t hurt them.