"Is that where they live? I thought they had tents," and Roger's voice showed his disappointment. "These aren't wild Indians," said Adrian. "They have to live here all the year. The government gives them this land and they raise crops on it, or rather their squaws do; for the Indians let the women do most of the work, same as they did when Columbus discovered this country, as we read in our history books." Just then, at the door of one of the cabins, appeared a man who seemed to be a negro, and Roger could see several dark-skinned children peeping out from behind the man. "What are colored folks doing on the Reservation, Adrian?" "They're not colored; that's an Indian. He's Pete Smith. You see lots of the Indians are very dark, and they look a little like negroes at a distance." "Well, he certainly don't look like the Indians you see in pictures," commented Roger. The boys kept on. The little log cabins became more numerous now, and in the fields about them could be observed many Indian squaws at work, husking corn or gathering pumpkins and tomatoes. Once in a while a male Indian would be seen at work, probably because he had no squaw. The boys now approached a cabin larger than any of the others near it. Adrian, coming opposite it, pointed to something fastened on the front wall. "Do you know what that is?" he asked his cousin. "What? Where?" "Tacked up on the side of the cabin." "Oh, that? Why, it looks like a piece of fur." "Don't you know what it is?" "No." "That's the varmint which tried to eat you up last night." "Not the wild-cat?" "The very same. This is where Johnny Green lives. He's skinned the animal. That's its hide." Roger stared with much interest at the fur, stretched out to tan. A few hours before it had been a wild-cat bent on doing him mischief. Just then Johnny Green stalked out of his cabin. "Sagoola!" he exclaimed, pleasantly, grinning expansively in recognition of Roger and Adrian. "Sagoola!" replied Adrian. "Glad to see you, Johnny. Get home all right last night?" "Sartin, sure. Got coon, too." "You did? Where?" "Down back Bill Eaton's place. Here um hide," and he held up the pelt of a raccoon he had shot and skinned. "Have you got any bows and arrows you don't want?" asked Adrian, with the freedom of an old acquaintance. "Mebby so," grinned Johnny, and he went back into his cabin to return with two small but well-made hickory bows and several arrows, feather tipped, but with blunt ends. He gave the weapons to the boys, who thanked him heartily. "Stop and get some honey when you're up our way," said Adrian, giving the invitation as a sort of payment for the gift. Then the boys kept on. They walked to nearly the centre of the Reservation, where the Castle, as the long white Council House was called, stood. It was the most substantial building in the Indian village, being constructed of boards.