While Fred Linden and Terry Clark lay in that part of the where the floor was of rock, the blanket of Deerfoot was spread on the earth. Consequently when the Winnebago brought down his knife with such vicious spitefulness, it went through the folds of the blanket and was buried to the hilt in the ground .  
You know that, despite the marvelous quiet with which the Winnebago approached the cavern, he was heard by Deerfoot, who, pausing only long enough to make sure that an enemy was approaching, whisked outside. There he stood in the impenetrable shadow under the trees, and saw the Winnebago at the moment he emerged into the faint moonlight and stood upright.
 
The first look confirmed his suspicion that it was the Winnebago, who had come back to himself for the affair of the preceding day. Deerfoot smiled to himself, for there was a of about the whole business that was sure to become still more so.
 
The Shawanoe paused a few seconds before out of the cavern, until he could arrange his blanket, so that it would appear as if it infolded his sleeping form, and then he quietly awaited events.
 
It must be admitted that it looked like leaving Fred and Terry in great to permit such a enemy to creep so close to them while they were sound asleep; but Deerfoot knew that the first thing that the Wolf would do would be to attempt his life, as he did attempt it. Before he could do any thing more, the Shawanoe concluded to impress his presence upon the visitor.
 
At the moment, therefore, that the Winnebago stopped his advance and slowly raised his knife, as he supposed over the breast of Deerfoot, that gentleman, kneeling on one knee, brought his rifle to bear upon the Winnebago, the dull light from the fire shining along the187 barrel, whose was within a yard of the unsuspicious Wolf.
 
The blanket through which the keen- knife had been driven was no more firmly transfixed for the moment than was the Wolf when a slight noise caused him to turn his head, and he saw the Shawanoe in a kneeling position with his gun leveled at him, the finger on the trigger, and the bright eye glancing along the barrel.
 
The Winnebago was unable to move or speak, and Deerfoot, motionless himself, held him thus for several seconds. Then with the gun still pointed, he said in a low voice:
 
"Dog of a Winnebago! Deerfoot has spared the life of the Wolf, and he now seeks to strike him in the dark."
 
This address loosened the tongue of the terrified , who, seeing his captor raise his head from sighting along the barrel, though he kept the weapon leveled, obeyed the motion of Deerfoot, and crept noiselessly out of the cavern. On the alert for any chance, he was ready to seize it, but the first object on which his eye rested in the dim moonlight was188 the figure of the young Shawanoe holding his gun in such a position, that, should it be necessary, he could fire like a flash.
 
Deerfoot would not have hesitated to lay his gun aside, and, drawing his knife, give the Winnebago the same chance with himself; but the Wolf had left his weapon where he forced it through the blanket into the ground, so that he had none except his tomahawk, and he was not likely to attempt any thing with that.
 
Besides, while Deerfoot had not the least fear of his enemy, he did not wish to fight with him. He did not engage in his many desperate encounters through love of victory, but because it had seemed to him that it was his duty, and there was no other way out of the trouble.
 
It must be said, too, that at this hour the Shawanoe happened to be in a mood which rendered such encounters more than usually distasteful to him. After he had closed his Bible and lay on his face, looking into the embers and , the same thought that had stirred him many a time before filled his mind again.
 
Why do men strive to kill each other?
 
It was a question which has puzzled many a wise man in the past and has not yet been answered. Thousands of affectionate husbands unlock the white arms of the loving little children from their necks, kiss the heartbroken wife good-by, and then rush out to try to murder one whom they have never seen, who has also just torn himself loose from his family. There is something in the thought that mystifies beyond all explanation.
 
The problem which directly interested Deerfoot was whether the day would not come when the red men of every tribe could meet the pale faces in friendship instead of . Why should they always be at war? Could he do a little to bring about that day of universal peace? Was there not some work which the Great Spirit had laid out for him by which he could help to the feeling of the two peoples toward each other?
 
But Deerfoot had asked himself the same question many a time befo............