"Bravely done, Sprigg! Bravely done! You have run a magnificent race! We never saw a young human thing acquit himself in handsomer style! Why, sir, we were beginning to think your shadow was all we were likely to catch! But here we are, one and all, coming out at the goal at the same instant! That's brave! We promised to speed you on, and show you in style to grandpap's house by set of sun! And like true Manitous, too, have we kept our word! You can't deny it! Nobody can! Look!" Sprigg looked. The Manitou race, after stretching its length for many a zig-zag mile, had brought them to the hour of sunset, and to the top of the lofty hill, where stood the small stockade fort, under the shelter of whose wooden walls his grandfather and the other pioneers had established their cabin homes. But these, with the loving human hearts he had trusted to find there, were now behind him, utterly beyond his reach. Out before him was a depth of airy emptiness! Down beneath him--horrible! A tremendous precipice, and his feet on the very brink! Back he shrank, aghast! But the elves were behind him! His brain spun 'round! The mystic coronal was snatched from his head. The next instant the Manitou moccasins, with a wild leap, sheer over the dizzy verge, had flung him away, like a waif! Down the frightful declivity, whirling, he went, dropping from ledge to ledge like a lifeless lump, whirling and dropping, till into the dusky depths of the forest that shagged the foot of the hill he rolled and vanished. And peals of elfin laughter; weird and mocking laughter, beginning at the brink of the steep, far up there, and keeping pace with the whirling body, now in the edge of the wood, far down there, subsiding into an elfin wail, a weird and pitying wail, then suddenly ceased. A dell, it was, where echoes were wont to linger and answer each other; but never an echo lingered now to lead in the deathlike silence that settled at once on the glimmering evening scene. CHAPTER XVII. Missed. With Pow-wow, now before him, now behind him, trotting out many a short, irrelevant digression from their general course, Jervis Whitney, rifle on shoulder, came trudging cheerfully homeward, all unwitting of the young-feet that had met him, the young eyes that had seen him, the young ears that had heard him--heard the very rustling of his garments--far back yonder in the heart of the lonely forest! He was still a half mile or more from home--the bright June afternoon by this time wearing an evening cast--when from among the trees a little way off to one side, the voice of Elster reached his ear, calling Sprigg in a tone of anxiety and alarm. Surprised to find his wife so far from the house, and evidently in quest of their boy, Jervis, somewhat alarmed himself, hastened forward to meet her and inquire into the occasion of so unwonted a circumstance.