When Joel Runnell and the Irish lad returned to camp Link and Harry were missing. “They went up the north shore,” said Joe. “Teddy, they wanted to know if you wouldn’t follow them up. I think they have something they want you to help carry home.” “All right,” answered the Irish lad, willingly, and set off at once, whistling merrily as he trudged along. As luck would have it, Joel Runnell was busy skinning some rabbits found in the traps. Consequently he did not notice the actions of the boys and inside of a minute after Teddy left the camp they were following him up. “Don’t let him see you,” whispered Joe to the others. “If he does the game will be spoilt.” “You keep out of sight yourself,” returned Bart. “And don’t talk so loud,” came from Fred. “Remember, it’s so quiet just now a fellow’s voice carries further than you imagine.” After that they remained silent and took good care that Teddy should not see them. All unconscious of the trick about to be played upon him, the Irish lad trudged on and on, until he was quarter of a mile from camp. “Hello, boys!” he called out. “Where are you?” No answer came back, and he continued to move on, until a sudden stir in some bushes caused him to halt. It was after sunset and the woods appeared dim and ghostly. “I say, where are you?” he went on. “Link! Harry!” Again there was no answer, but now he saw two forms moving silently from the bushes to a spot behind him. Joe had seen to it that Teddy did not take his gun along, so the Irish lad was totally unarmed. He watched the figures in considerable alarm. “Sure an’ they can’t be the boys,” he told himself. “Link! Harry!” Slowly the figures drew closer and as they did so Teddy’s hair almost stood on end. “Indians!” he cried. “Indians! Oh, I’m a dead b’y now!” “Pa-wa! Pa-wa!” cried one of the advancing figures. “Bunk-a-bunk a busta-bust! Pa-wa!” “Nunk-a-nuck!” came from the other. “White boy Injun prisoner!” “Mercy on me!” shrieked poor Teddy. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me, Mr. Indian!” “White boy big chief’s prisoner,” came from the second figure. “Maybe scalp white boy!” At this Teddy clasped his hands in terror. “Don’t ye do it!” he yelled. “Help! somebody, help! The Indians have come to murder us all in our beds! Don’t touch my hair! I nade it, I do!” He wanted to run, but one of the wrapped-up figures caught him by the arm, while the other raised his hatchet threateningly. “White boy be silent!” was the command. “No speak a word.” “Fer the sake o’ me family!” groaned Teddy. “Please let me go!” “White boy good to eat maybe?” “To eat is it! Oh, my! just to hear o’ that now! No, I’m no good to eat! I’m tough, terribul tough! If ye try to eat me ye’ll break yer teeth!” At this came a snicker from behind the trees. “Say, but he’s scared right enough,” murmured Bart. “Down on your knees—your Japanese,” went on Harry, giving his hatchet a wild flourish. “Oh! oh! Don’t sca—scalp me!” groaned Teddy, and fell on his knees.