When they were within a few hundred yards of the solitary Indian, they again halted, and Joe ran to the sled and seized his musket, which he cocked and threw up to his shoulder. “Take down your gun!” said Boone; “that is the Indian whose life we spared. I was not deceived in his integrity. He was not the one that stole away Mary. I doubt not he brings intelligence of her.” “God grant she may still be unharmed!” said Roughgrove, advancing to meet the Indian, who, being now within gunshot, raised his small white flag. “Tell me! tell me all about her!” exclaimed Roughgrove, in the Osage language, when he met the Indian. When the Indian informed him of the condition of Mary, the old man could not repress his raptures, his gratitude, or his tears. “She’s safe! she’s safe! Heaven be praised!” he exclaimed, turning to his companions, who now came up, and experienced almost as much joy at the announcement as himself. “Hang me, if you ain’t a right clever fellow,” said Joe, shaking the Indian’s hand quite heartily. “Now,” he continued, when all the particulars of Mary’s escape were made known, “there won’t be any use in fighting; we can just get Miss Mary out of the snow, and then go home again.” “You don’t know—keep your mouth shet—dod—,” said Sneak, suppressing the last word. “We are not sure of that,” said Boone; “on the contrary, I think it is very probable we shall have fighting yet. When the war-party discover the deception, (as they must have done ere this,) they will retrace their steps. If it was early in the day when they ascertained that the captive had escaped, we may expect to see them very soon. If it was late, we will find them in the grove where they encamped. In either event we must expect to fight—and fight hard too—for they outnumber us considerably.” Joe sighed, but said nothing. “Are you getting ill again?” inquired Boone. “No—I was only blowing—I got a little tired,” said Joe, in scarce articulate tones. “And I feel weak—very weak—but it is with joy!” said Roughgrove. “And I have observed it, too,” said Boone. “Get in the sled; we will pull you along till your strength returns.” “I will be able to use my gun when I meet the foe,” said the old man, getting into the sled. The party set forward again, guided by the Indian, and in high spirits. The consciousness that Mary was in safety removed a weight from the breasts of all; and, as they ran along, many a light jest and pleasant repartee lessened the weariness of the march. Even Joe smiled once or twice when Boone, in a mock heroic manner alluded to his exploits among the wolves. “Blast me,” said Joe, when Sneak mentioned a few cases of equivocal courage as an offset to Boone’s compliments, “blast me, if I haven’t killed more Indians than any of you, since I have been in this plagued country.” “True—that is, your musket has,” said Boone. “Joe can fight sometimes,” said Glenn, smiling.