The missionary had become, in a degree, resigned to his fate; and yet, properly speaking, he could not be said to be resigned, for he was not yet convinced that she was entirely lost to him.  All traces of the strange hunter seemed irrecoverably gone, but Richter still devoutly believed the providence of God would adjust everything in due time.  It is true, at seasons, he was filled with doubt and misgiving; but his profession, his devotedness to his work, brought him in such close communion with his divine Master that he trusted fully in his providences.

On this summer afternoon, thoughts of his wife and of the strange hunter occupied his mind more exclusively than they had for a year past.  So constant and preoccupying, indeed, were they, that he once or twice believed he was on the eve of learning something regarding her.  While engaged in reading, the figures of his wife and the hunter would obtrude themselves; he found it impossible to dismiss them, so he had laid down the book and gone off into this absorbing reverie.

An additional fear or presentiment at times haunted the mind of the missionary.  He believed this hunter who could resort to such diabolical means to revenge himself, would seek to inflict further injury upon him, and he instinctively looked upon his boy as the vulnerable point where the blow would be likely to fall.  For over a year, while Teddy was absent, Richter had taken the boy with him, when making his daily visits to the village, and made it a point never to lose sight of him.  During these years of loneliness, also, Harvey Richter had hunted a great deal in the woods and had attained remarkable skill in the use of the rifle—­an accomplishment for which he had reason to be thankful for the remainder of his life, as we shall presently see.  On a pleasant afternoon, he frequently employed himself in shooting at a target, or at small game in the lofty trees around him, until his aim became so unerring that not a warrior among the Sioux could excel him.  It may seem singular, but our readers will understand us when we say that this added to his popularity—­and, in a manner, paved a way for reaching many a heart that hitherto had remained unmoved by his appeals.

The year preceding, an Indian had presented the missionary with a goat, to the neck of which was attached a large cow-bell, that probably had been obtained of some trader.  Where the animal came from, however, he had never been able to tell.  It was a very acceptable present, as it became a companion for his Charley, who spent many and many an hour in sporting with it.  It also afforded for a while a much-valued luxury in the shape of milk, so that the missionary came to regard the animal as an indispensable requirement in his household.