The missionary stood but a moment; then dashing into the house, he took down his ever-loaded rifle and ran in the direction of the sound.  In his hurry, he forgot powder-horn and bullet, and had, as a consequence, but a single charge in his rifle.  He had gone scarcely a hundred yards, when he encountered the goat returning home.  One glance showed there was no bell to its neck, while that ominous tink, tink, tink, came through the woods as uninterruptedly as before.

The father now broke into a swifter run, almost losing his presence of mind from his great, agonizing fear.  The picture of the Indian, whom he had felled to the floor, when he insulted his wife years before, rose before him, and he saw his child already struggling in the savage’s merciless grasp.  Nearer and nearer he approached the sound, until he suddenly paused, conscious that it was but a short distance away.  Hurrying stealthily but rapidly several rods to the right, the whole thing was almost immediately made plain to him.

Two trees, from some cause or other, had fallen to the ground in a parallel direction and within a yard of each other.  Between the trunks of these an Indian was crouched, who held the goat-bell in his left hand, and caused the sound which so startled the father.  The savage had his back turned toward the missionary, and appeared to be looking in the opposite direction, as if he were waiting the appearance of some one.

While the father stood gazing at this, he saw his boy come to view about fifty feet the other side of the Indian, and, as if wearied with his unusual hunt, seat himself upon a log.  As soon as the boy was visible, the savage—­whom Richter recognized at once as the same man that he had felled to the floor of his cabin, four years before—­called into use a little common sense, which, if it had been practised somewhat sooner, must have completely deluded the father and accomplished the design meditated.  If, instead of giving the bell the monotonous tink, the Indian had shaken the clapper irregularly, it would have resulted in the certain capture of the child, beyond the father’s power of aid or rescue.

The missionary, we say, penetrated the design of the Indian almost instantly.  Although he saw nothing but the head and top of one shoulder, he recognized, with a quick instinct, the villain who had felt the weight of his hand years before, and who had now come in the fullness of time, to claim his revenge.  Directly in front of the savage rose a small bush, which, while it gave him a view of the boy, concealed himself from the child’s observation.