TWENTY-FOUR hours later the party left the prairie, and came to a region more uneven and wooded.

“It seems pleasant,” said Tom, “to get away from the prairie.”

“It may be pleasanter,” said the doctor, “but it is not so safe.”

“Why not?” asked Tom.

“Your friend Brush will tell you as I do, that we are more liable to encounter Indians. They naturally seek the woods and hills.”

“Yet the two travelers whom we buried were on the prairie.”

“That is true; of course, the savages roam over the prairies at times, but even there they may be seen long beforehand. Here one may come upon them suddenly.”

“What the doctor says is gospel truth,” said Peter Brush, gravely. “I feel more anxious in my mind than I did yesterday. But it isn’t best to worry overmuch. I’ve been over the plains—at least as far as Utah—half a dozen times, and I’ve never been in the clutches of the redskins yet.”

“I hope I shall be as lucky, Mr. Brush,” said Tom.

“I hope so, too. To my mind they are a set of poisonous reptiles that ought to be exterminated. I don’t know what they were made for, anyway.”

“Your views are extreme, friend Brush,” said Lycurgus Spooner. “I have no great liking for the redmen myself, but it is certain that the fault is not wholly on their side. They have been badly treated by our race.”

“No more than they deserved,” said Mr. Brush, stubbornly, for he was strongly prejudiced. “I’d like to argy the point.”

“No occasion for that. We will each hold to our own opinions, and I hope we may have no cause to think more ill of them.”

Tom and his friend Brush found Mr. Spooner an entertaining companion. He was an educated man, had read a great deal, and seen a good deal of the world, having pursued his professional studies in part at Paris and Vienna. It must be confessed that he looked like a tramp, but one who judged him by his outward appearance would make a great mistake.

It was toward the close of the afternoon. They had just forded a narrow stream, and safely landed on the other side, were about to resume their journey, when, in a little inlet half-hidden by the trees, they saw an object which startled them.

It was an Indian canoe.

“Do you see that, Tom?” said Brush, quickly.

“Yes; it is a canoe, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and it means that the Indians are not far away. Am I right, Dr. Spooner?” “Probably you are, friend Brush.”

“What shall we do?” asked Tom.

“I suppose it will be best to push on. We shall never accomplish our journey unless we do, but we must keep our eyes open, and be prepared to come upon the Indians at any moment. What do you say, doctor?”

“You are right.”

No doubt Tom had reason to feel anxious. When he started away from home he knew that he must encounter difficulties and endure privations, but he had not thought of danger. He was only a boy of sixteen, and at that age one seldom weighs carefully the consequences of any given step. How then did he feel? Serious, to be sure, but the thought of danger gave him a feeling of excitement and exhilaration that was partly pleasurable. He felt older, more like a man, now that he found himself in a situation which men would consider serious.

The little party moved on with great caution, scarcely speaking above a whisper.

Though they were in the woods, there was a good trail, and they had no difficulty in making their way onward on horseback. There was very little underbrush. Straight and high-branched, the trees rose in lofty majesty. They were stripped of their foliage, for it was a winter month, but they looked like dark sentinels, posted by nature, to warn off intruders from her vast and lonely domain.

Suddenly Peter Brush, who was gifted with keen sight, clutched Tom by the arm.

“What’s the matter?” asked our hero. “Hush! Look there!”

Tom followed the direction of the extended finger, and his heart beat quicker as he caught sight of a company of savages sitting in a circle beneath the overspreading branch of an immense tree a dozen rods away. A fire had been kindled in the center of the group, and the savages were evidently enjoying it. Their day’s tramp was over, and in their silent way they were enjoying their evening rest.