WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED.

Jack Carleton was too sensible a youth to suppose that the Lost Trail
could be found by a blind wandering through the immense expanse of
wilderness, which stretched hundreds of miles in almost every direction
from the little settlement of Martinsville. Both he and Otto had a
strong hope, when they reached home after their stirring adventure with
Deerfoot, that the colt Toby would follow them of his own accord. He
belonged to a species possessing such unusual intelligence that there
would have been nothing remarkable in such a proceeding, and the fact
that he did not do so, gave ground for the belief that he had fallen
into the hands of parties who prevented the animal from doing as he
chose.

One fact was clearly established; Toby had been within a comparatively
short distance of the settlement, and, if he had remained anywhere in
the neighborhood during the late storm, traces of him must be found
without much difficulty. But one of the easiest things in the world is
to theorize over any problem; to push that theory to a successful
conclusion is altogether another matter.

While it lacked a couple of hours of noon, the boys reached an elevated
section which gave them an extended view in every direction. Looking to
the eastward, Otto fancied he could detect the gleam of the distant
Mississippi, but Jack assured him he was mistaken. Too many miles lay
between them and the mighty Father of Waters for the eye to traverse the
space.

Young Carleton took off his cap and drew his handkerchief across his
perspiring forehead. Then he sighed and smiled.

"This doesn't appear so hopeful to me as it did last night, when we sat
around the fire and talked it over; but of course we won't give up so
long as there's the least hope."

"And it won't do for me to give him up then," replied Otto, with a
meaning shake of his head; "you don't know my fader as well as me."

"I don't want to either," remarked Jack, who did not think it his duty
to refrain from showing the contempt he felt for the miserly, cruel
parent of his friend.

"No," observed Otto, with a touch of that grim humor which he sometimes
displayed, "I doesn't dinks dot you and him could have much fun
together."

The young friends were too accustomed to the immensity of nature, as
displayed on every hand, to feel specially impressed by the scene which
would have held any one else enthralled. It may be said they were "on
business," though it had very much the appearance of sport.

"Halloo! I expected it!" called out Jack Carleton, whose gaze abruptly
rested on a point due southwest, and more than a mile away.

His companion did not need the guidance of the outstretched arm and
index finger leveled toward the distant spot, where the smoke of a
camp-fire was seen climbing toward the blue sky. The scene on which the
boys looked was similar to that which met the eye of Ned Preston and
Deerfoot when they lay on the broad flat rock and gazed across at the
signal-fire in the distance.

The wooded country gradually sloped to the south and west from the
elevation whereon the young friends had halted, slowly rising and
undulating until the eye could follow the blue wavy outlines no further.

At the point already named, and in the lowest portion of the intervening
country, a camp-fire was burning. The smoke, as it filtered upward
through the branches of the trees, and gradually dissolved in the pure
air above, was seen with such distinctness that it caught the eye of
Jack the moment it was turned in that direction.

It was not a signal-fire, such as one is likely to detect when
journeying through an Indian country, but the vapor from the camp of
some body of men who were not making the slightest attempt to conceal
themselves, for it cannot be conceived that they had any reason for
doing so.

If the party were Indians, they surely had no necessity for stationing a
sentinel on the outskirts of their camp to watch for danger.

Jack and Otto looked in each other's faces and smiled; the natural
question had presented itself at the same moment. It was, "Can it be
that the horse we are seeking is with them?"

"The only way to find out is to go forward and see for ourselves," said
Jack, after they had discussed the question for several minutes.

"'Spose dot de horse is with them--what den?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"Deerfoot used to say that he could never answer such a question until
he knew exactly how everything stood. Now, we can't be certain whether
they are Indians or white men, and I don't know as it makes much
difference one way or the other, for our own horse thieves over in
Kentucky were dreaded as much as were the Shawanoes. They were a good
deal meaner, too, for they oppressed their own race."

"Dot is vot I sometimes dinks of fader," was the unexpected remark of
Otto; "if he was only a colored man or Injin I would have more respect
for him; dot is so."

"Come on; we have started out to do something, and we can't gain
anything by staying here."

The brief halt had refreshed the boys, and they now moved forward with
their naturally vigorous and almost bounding steps. While they had much
curiosity, and a somewhat singular misgiving, yet they were in no
particular fear, for it was impossible to believe they were in any real
peril.

It was quite a tramp to reach the camp in which just then they felt so
much interest, and the sun was close to meridian when Jack, who was
slightly in advance, slackened his gait, and remarked in an undertone:

"It can't be far--halloo!"

While picking their way through the valley, they lost sight of the
wavering column of vapor, except once or twice when they were able to
catch a glimpse of it through the tree-tops. Jack's exclamation was
caused by another sight of the murky column, which, as he suspected,
proved to be little more than a hundred yards distant.

There was so much undergrowth that nothing of the fire itself could be
observed, though the smoke showed itself distinctly in the clear air
above.

"Vell, vot does we does now?" was the natural query of Otto, as he
placed himself beside his young friend.

"I guess we may as well keep on, until we find out who they are."

"After we finds out vot we does den?"

"We shall see--come on."

It was simple prudence that they should speak in whispers, and step with
as much care as if they were scouts entering the camp of an enemy. It
would have been rashness to neglect so simple a precaution, no matter
how favorable the circumstances.

"Holds on!" whispered Otto, "I dinks I goes around the oder side while
you takes a look on dis side."

"There is no need of doing that," interposed Jack; "we found out the
consequence of separating when in danger. You needn't keep behind me,
but you may walk at my side."

"All right," responded Otto, obeying the suggestion.

A rod or two further, and something red gleamed, among the trees and
undergrowth. Smoke was observed at the same moment, and immediately
after came the hum of voices and the sight of persons stretched on the
ground in lolling, indolent positions, while some were sitting on a
fallen tree, and two were engaged in broiling some venison, which
evidently was meant to furnish dinner for the rest. The majority were
smoking a species of red clay pipe, and the appearance of the party
suggested that they were resting after a laborious tramp through the
woods.

There were precisely ten, and they were Indians--every one. Jack could
not be certain of the tribe to which they belonged, but inasmuch as it
was apparent they were neither Shawanoes nor Hurons, he was confident
they were Osages, though it was not impossible that their totem was
another altogether.

Several peculiarities about the strange Indians interested the youth.

They were noticeably shorter in stature than the Hurons and Shawanoes
whom they had been accustomed to meet on the other side of the
Mississippi. The poetical American Indian is far different from the one
in real life. It is rarely that a really handsome warrior or squaw is
met. They are, generally a slouchy, frowsy, lazy, unclean people, of
whom nothing is truer than that distance lends enchantment to their
view.

Those upon whom Jack and Otto gazed with natural curiosity, were not
only shorter in stature, but of homelier countenance. Their eyes were
smaller, more piggish, and further apart, their cheek-bones more
prominent, the foreheads lower and more sloping, while Jack always
asserted that they had much larger mouths than the Indians with whom he
was familiar.

While asking themselves whether it was wise to go any closer and to make
their acquaintance, the lads stood side by side, each with the stock of
his gun resting on the earth, while their whole attention was absorbed
by the curious scene before them.

It would naturally follow that if the Indian party was in such plain
sight of the boys, they themselves must have been visible to the red men
had they chosen to cast their searching glances towards the spot where
the two were standing, even though the latter were partially hidden by
the undergrowth.

Had Jack and Otto been as vigilant and suspicious as they ought to have
been, their misgivings would have been awakened by what took place
within the next ten minutes. Two of the warriors, leaving their rifles
where they were leaning against a fallen tree, leisurely rose and
sauntered into the woods, taking a course directly opposite to that
which would have led them to where the boys stood. The latter observed
the movement, but thought nothing of it.

"What do you say?" finally asked Jack, in a guarded voice; "shall we go
forward and make their acquaintance?"

"Dey haven't any horses that we can see, and I dinks dot we better goes
away till some other time."

"I am inclined to believe you are right----"

At that moment, and without the least warning, a brawny, coppery arm
shot over the shoulder of Jack Carleton, and, grasping his rifle with an
iron grip, snatched it from him. At the same instant, a precisely
similar movement deprived Otto Relstaub of his most important weapon,
the two friends being made prisoners before they dreamed they were in
the least danger.