“Sir,” said Piper, “I reckon maybe you’ll pardon me if I inform you that we’re not much interested in the affairs of other people who have rashly ventured into the remote regions of these virgin wilds. It is only their ignorance or their foolish bravado that has led them thus to expose their lives to the perils of the primeval forests, and were the Wampanoags to take to the warpath, it is not at all improbable that the foolhardy palefaces over yonder would be butchered to the last man, woman and child.” Mr. Granger looked at Sleuth in a puzzled way. “What’s he talking about?” he asked. “Injuns!” hissed Piper, unabashed. “We pioneers know full well the perils that menace us in this redskin haunted land, but years of experience amid such dangers have taught us to baffle the varmints. Those who lack our knowledge should cling close to the settlements, where they may seek the protection of the block houses whenever the pizen warriors go on a rampage.” The visitor turned from Sleuth to Grant. “Anything the matter with him up here?” he asked, touching his forehead. “Nothing but illuminated literature,” answered Rod, laughing. “At home Piper has Sherlock Holmes and Old Sleuth backed against the ropes, and groggy. He’s the greatest detective that ever solved the mystery of a dark and terrible crime. Here in the woods he is the emulator of Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton and ‘Deadeye Dick, the Boy Scout of the Border.’ That’s all.” “Oh, I see,” laughed Granger. “It’s the effect of a vivid imagination, spurred by a line of reading that some fussy people call pernicious. I fancy he’ll get over it in time and be none the worse for it.” Which caused Sleuth to snort disgustedly. “Speaking of Indians,” pursued the visitor, “I suppose you’ve heard the story of Lovers’ Leap? That’s the cliff over behind the hotel, the top of which is marked by that white cross which you can faintly discern against the sky.” “Well,” replied Crane, “we’ve heard something abaout it.” “It’s a most romantic legend,” said Granger glibly. “In the days before the invading whites drove them out, two small, warlike tribes of Indians, the Passagonquays and the Mattagamons, were almost constantly at war over this particular territory, which was coveted by both. Even in times of peace these tribes had little in common and shunned each other as far as possible. According to the story, Lolokana was a beautiful princess of the Passagonquays, and Agamenthan, a young brave of that tribe, desired her to brighten his wigwam. But, for some reason, Lolokana had no use for Agamenthan and steadily repulsed his wooing. One day while Lolokana wandered alone in the forest she was attacked by a panther.” “Who says there are no cougars hereabouts?” muttered Piper.