"I won't be caught foul _this_ time," said Melville, turning to descend the stairs again; "Dot, stay right where you are on the bed till I come back or call to you." She promised to obey, and there could be no doubt that she would do so. "They must think I'm stupid," muttered the youth, taking his position in the middle of the room, with his rifle cocked and ready for instant use; "but they will find out the idiot is some one else." He had not long to wait when in the large open space at the back of the stove appeared a pair of moccasins groping vaguely about for support. The pipe from the stove, instead of passing directly up the chimney, entered it by means of an elbow. Had it been otherwise, the daring warrior would have found himself in a bad fix on arriving at the bottom. It would have been idle for the young man standing on the watch to fire at the feet or legs, and he waited an instant, when the Indian dropped lightly on his feet, and, without the least hesitation, stepped forward in the apartment and confronted Melville. The latter was dumbfounded, for the first glance at his face showed that he was the chieftain Red Feather, the Indian whom of all others he least expected to see. The act of the savage was without any possible explanation to the astonished youth, who, recoiling a step, stared at him, and uttered the single exclamation-- "Red Feather!" "Howly do, broder?" was the salutation of the Sioux, whose dusky face showed just the faintest smile. Red Feather's descent of the chimney had not been without some disagreeable features. His blanket and garments, never very tidy, were covered with soot, enough of which had got on his face to suggest that he had adopted the usual means of his people to show they were on the war-path. [Illustration: "A pair of moccasins groping vaguely about for support."] His knife and tomahawk were thrust in his girdle at his waist, and throughout this laborious task he had held his rifle fast, so that he was fully armed. "Howly do?" he repeated, extending his hand, which Melville was too prudent to accept. "No," he replied, compressing his lips, and keeping his finger on the trigger of his gun, "Red Feather speaks with a double tongue; he is not our friend." "Red Feather been bad Injin--want white folks' scalp--don't want 'em now--little pappoose pray to Great Spirit--_dat_ make Red Feather feel bad--he hab pappoose--he lub Injin pappoose--lub white pappoose--much lub white pappoose." This remark shed light upon the singular incident. To Melville it was a mystery beyond understanding that any person could look upon the sweet innocent face of Dot without loving her. Knowing how vile an Indian Red Feather had been, it was yet a question with the youth whether he could find it in his heart to wish ill to his wee bit of a sister.