He held his long rifle in his right hand, while he drew the shrubbery apart with his left, and looked forth at the canoe

"A purty question, ye murtherin haythen!"

"Where does yees get the jug?"

Dealt the savage a tremendous blow

"Well, At-to-uck," said he, kindly, "you seem troubled."

The trail was lost

"And so, Teddy, ye're sayin' it war a white man that took away the missionary's wife."

"It's all up!" muttered the dying man. "I am wiped out at last, and must go under!"

"Harvey Richter—don't you know me?" he gasped.

THE LOST TRAIL.