The missionary, turning round to greet his fellow–traveller with his accustomed courtesy, encountered a countenance which, notwithstanding its condition, he recognised as one that he had seen in the Delaware village. “Bearskin, my good friend,” said he, holding out his hand, and grasping heartily the horny fist of the voyageur, “I am right glad to see you, although it seems that you have received some severe hurts; I feared you had fallen among the other victims of that terrible day.” “I can’t deny that the day was rough enough,” replied Bearskin, looking down upon his wounded arm; “and the red–skin devils left only one other of my party besides myself alive: we contrived to beat off those who attacked our quarter, but when we found that Mahéga had broken in upon the rear, and had killed Mike Smith and his men, we made the best of our way to the woods: several were shot and scalped, two of us escaped: I received, as you see, a few ugly scratches, but my old carcase is accustomed to being battered, and a week will set it all to rights.” “You know,” replied the missionary, “that I have some skill in curing wounds. When we reach St. Louis we will take up our lodging in the same house, and I will do what I can to relieve your hurts. Moreover, there are many things on which I wish to speak with you at leisure, and I have friends there who will supply us with all that is needful for our comfort.” While they were thus conversing, the tall spires of the cathedral became visible over the forest, which then grew dense and unbroken to the very edge of the town, and in a few minutes Bearskin, conducted by the missionary, was snugly lodged in the dwelling of one of the wealthiest peltry–dealers in the famous frontier city of St. Louis. CHAPTER X. AN AMBUSCADE.—REGINALD BRANDON FINDS HIS HORSE, AND M. PERROT NEARLY LOSES HIS HEAD.—WHILE INDIAN PHILOSOPHY IS DISPLAYED IN ONE QUARTER, INDIAN CREDULITY IS EXHIBITED IN ANOTHER.