The Indian noted the change which had come over his master, and
wondered. He made no comment, however, as he squatted upon the ground,
slowly turning a wooden spit on which a fat duck was roasting over a
small fire. Dane sat down upon a log, with his eyes upon Pete,
although in fact he was hardly aware what he was doing, for his
thoughts were elsewhere.

When the duck was at last cooked, the Indian divided it, and gave half
to Dane.

"Fine bird, dat," he remarked. "Me shoot him on wing. Taste good, eh?"

"Does it?" Dane asked, rousing for a minute from his reverie. He then
relapsed into silence.

"What de matter?" Pete presently asked. "See sometin', eh?"

"Why, what makes you think there is anything the matter?" the young man
queried.

"Dane so still. Dane no talk, no smile, no eat. Dane seek, mebbe.
Bad medicine, eh?"

Dane laughed and looked at his companion.

"I am all right, Pete," he assured. "But I've seen and heard great
things to-day. I also knocked out two slashers, while the third ran
away."