"Well, that's done. Want to go to Cardiff now?" for that was the way every one spoke of going up to the centre of the village. "Would we have time to go to the Indian Reservation?" asked Roger, eagerly, for he had been thinking with anticipation all the morning of the news he had heard concerning the near location of the redmen. "Well, hardly before dinner," replied Adrian. "It's three miles there. But we can go this afternoon." "Then let's go." "All right. We'll take a rest until the dinner horn blows." So the boys went down to the barn with the last of the grapes. As they approached they were greeted by the barking of a dog, and a brown setter ran out to gambol about Adrian. "Whose dog?" asked Roger, looking at the beautiful animal. "Mine," replied Adrian. "He ran off to the woods Saturday, and he must have just come back. He does it every once in a while. Gets sort of wild and likes to strike out for himself. But he's always glad to come back. Hi! Jack, old fellow!" and Adrian, setting the wheelbarrow down, ran along swiftly, to be followed by the joyfully barking dog. The two had a regular romp on the grass. "Here, old chap!" called Adrian, suddenly, and Jack stopped short in his running to look at his young master with bright eyes and cocked-up ears. "Come here, sir! I'll introduce you to my cousin Roger." Adrian led the dog by one ear up to Roger. The intelligent animal sniffed the boy a bit, and then the tail which had dropped began to wag quickly to and fro. "He likes you all right," announced Adrian. "Shake hands with him, Jack." The animal lifted his right paw up to Roger, who took it in his hand. "He's a fine bird dog," commented Adrian, the introduction over. "We'll take him along when we go hunting." Then Jack decided he was hungry, so he raced to the house, barking loudly. The boys took the grapes into the barn, and after they had been stowed away, Adrian lifted from a basket two large fine muskmelons. Next he produced a knife and a small bag of salt, when he and Roger proceeded to eat the fruit. "This is the way dad and I like our melons," he announced to his cousin, as he cut off a luscious slice. It didn't take long to finish the fruit, and about an hour later, after they had amused themselves by jumping around in the hay, they were quite ready for dinner, when they heard Mrs. Kimball blow the horn vigorously. They announced at the table their intention of going to the Indian Castle, and after the meal was over and they had rested up a bit they started, Jack the dog barking joyously on ahead of them. The way to the Reservation, or the Castle, as every one in Cardiff called it, was up the main road to the north, a long level stretch of highway, lying between pleasant farm lands. The three miles seemed rather short to Roger, and after a little more than an hour's tramp, they came to a group of log cabins. "What are those?" asked the city boy. "Indian houses."