Daniel's heart thumped so loudly against his ribs that it sounded to
his ears like a drum-beat as they crossed the clearing and entered the
forest on the other side. They had gone but a short distance into the
woods when they were startled by the report of a gun, and poor Zeb
fell off his horse and lay like one dead in the road. For a moment
they thought he had been shot, and the two men were about to spring to
his rescue, when Zeb scrambled to his feet and began to run like one
possessed.

"He is but scared to death. Haply he hath never heard a gun go off
before," said John Howland, and, sticking his spurs into his horse, he
gave chase.

Fleet of foot though he was, Zeb was no match for a horse and was soon
overtaken.

"'T was but the Indian shooting the deer," said John Howland, laughing
in spite of himself at poor Zeb's wild-eyed terror. "'T is a promise
of safety for the present at least. Nevertheless I like not the look
of it. The red-skin saw us; make no doubt of that; for when I first
beheld him he was peering at us as though to fix our faces in his
mind."

"I, too, marked how he stared," answered the Goodman, as he seized the
cowering Zeb and swung him again to his seat on the pillion.

"I have it," he said, stopping short as he was about to mount. "The
savage is without doubt of the Narragansett tribe. He caught a glimpse
of the dark skin of this boy and mistook him for an Indian lad--one of
the hated Pequots, who they thought were either all dead or sold