Tom was agitated with strong and conflicting emotions as he pursued his lonely way. His boy-nature had been terribly roused by the exciting scenes through which he had just passed. He had experienced the strange feeling which men feel, when, in battle, they are stirred by danger and the sight of blood to deeds of blood. It was under this feeling that he was led to precipitate the Indian from the bluff, and to view his remains with so much composure. But now a faintness came stealing over him. His young heart recoiled at the thought of what he had done. This relenting, however, was repelled by the recollection of Long Hair's heroism, and his father and mother's beleaguered condition, if, indeed, the tomahawk ere this had not drank their life. How many days had passed since Long Hair had seen them he knew not; but it was easy to see from his friend's anxiety that his parents were in an extremity of danger, and whether he could succeed in procuring assistance for them in season seemed doubtful. It would take him, to go afoot, two days to reach the fort; and he could not hope to get to his father's settlement with the soldiers in less than a day more, even if they were mounted. It was now about two o'clock, and he had eaten nothing since early in the morning; but he thought not of food as he hurried on. With the accuracy of the practised pioneer he struck a bee-line for the fort. This took him some miles away from any village; but towards night he reached a cabin standing alone. Entering, he found the family just taking their evening meal. With true western hospitality, the man of the house urged him to sit down and partake with them, while his wife poured out a generous bowl of strong, black coffee, which, as was the custom, was used without sugar or milk; and she heaped his plate with fried pork, and hot, mealy potatoes, while by the side of his plate she laid a generous slice of brown bread. Tom partook with a relish that did honor to the fare. "Where are you from, and where are you bound, my lad?" asked the man, who had refrained from questions until he saw that his guest was well under way eating. Tom's mouth and heart were full, and between them both he found it difficult to reply. He was painfully hungry from his long fast and the thrilling experiences of the day, and his brain was greatly excited. "I am going," said he, answering the last question first, perhaps because it was nearest at hand, "to the fort after help." "After help!" cried the wife, stopping short in the act of transferring a potato from the end of her fork to Tom's plate, holding it aloft unconsciously. "Ain't any trouble down your way with the Injuns--is there?" "No, not exactly," said Tom. And the good woman, relieved, remembered the potato, and deposited it as she had designed, then was proceeding to place another slice of pork beside it, just as Tom added,--