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“Do you suppose Black Hawk and his band could trace us here?”

“I doubt it,” said Joseph in response to his brother’s query. “They might have followed our trail up to the spot where we took the canoe. I don’t see how any human being could track us to this island though. If we are discovered it will only be by luck.”

Though hidden from the sight of passersby, the two boys were in a position where they could see all that occurred on the lagoon. As his brother finished speaking Robert half rose to his feet.

“Look!” he exclaimed.

“It’s Deerfoot,” said Joseph, gazing in the direction Robert indicated.

Across the lagoon sped the canoe, propelled by the expert paddle of the Pottowattomie. A moment later Deerfoot landed, drew the canoe ashore and approached the cabin door where the boys were seated. In one hand he held a string of perch and in the other he carried a duck.

What the two brothers both noticed at once, however, was the fact that from his belt now dangled two scalps where the day previous there had been but one. Neither boy dared ask an explanation, however, for they knew that if Deerfoot cared to tell of his exploit he would do so voluntarily. Questions would have no effect upon him other than to make him angry, for curiosity as to other people’s affairs was always regarded by an Indian as very bad breeding.