Harry Northend was not a little amused at the intense seriousness of Old Ruff, as he referred the question to him. It was not to be supposed, however, that his head was very clear upon such knotty points, and he frankly admitted his inability to decide. “I’ll put the question to some of them chaps down in Fr’isco the first time I’m there, and stop bothering my head over the blamed thing.” “Be sure and put the question to two separate ones,” said Harry, “first giving each ten dollars.” “What fur?” “Because one will decide the Indian guilty, and the other will decide him innocent. Thus you will get satisfaction from one of them at least, no matter how you look at it yourself. You will pay your money, and can take your choice.” “Here we are at home!” exclaimed Little Rifle. CHAPTER XVI. THE HAND OF FATE. The lodge of old Robsart and Little Rifle has been already sufficiently described in these pages, without requiring any further reference from us. It was near mid-day when it was reached, and the three decided to spend several hours where they were, as there was no necessity of setting their traps until nightfall. Little Rifle passed to his apartment in the rear of the lodge, and Harry felt a little hurt that he was not invited to accompany him. However, he carefully concealed his feelings, and sitting down in a lazy attitude proceeded to examine the rifle which had been presented to him. He found it to be an excellent one, well made and finely ornamented. It had doubtless been given to the Blackfoot by some kind-hearted Peace Commissioner, who most likely formed the first target upon which the red-skin had tried his skill. As he was also furnished with an abundance of ammunition, Harry was ready to start on his return to the fort. The reserve of Little Rifle and the suspicions of the old trapper almost decided him to go at once, with a mere formal good-by. While he was examining his weapon, he could feel that the eyes of the old trapper were upon him, and it nettled him not a little to think that any white man should entertain any distrust regarding him. Unable to conjecture the cause, he concluded that the best thing he could do was to relieve them of his presence. All at once he sprung to his feet, and slung the rifle over his shoulder. “I guess I’ll go now,” he said, in his off-hand manner; “they will begin to wonder at my absence from the fort. I can reach there by night, if I make good use of my time.” Old Ruff, who was carefully arranging some sticks so as to prepare a fire, looked up at him, without the least appearance of surprise. Indeed, Harry fancied that there was something in his looks which said plainly enough that he was pleased to hear his words. “It’s gettin’ purty well on into the day, younker, and you’d better wait till mornin’ afore you start on such a tramp.”