It was a picture which Joe had seen in many a boyish dream; now that he was a part of it he did not dwell on the hopelessness of the situation, nor of the hostile chief whose enmity he had incurred.  Almost, it seemed, he was glad of this chance to watch the Indians and listen to them.  He had been kept apart from Jim, and it appeared to Joe that their captors treated his brother with a contempt which they did not show him.  Silvertip had, no doubt, informed them that Jim had been on his way to teach the Indians of the white man’s God.

Jim sat with drooping head; his face was sad, and evidently he took the most disheartening view of his capture.  When he had eaten the slice of venison given him he lay down with his back to the fire.

Silvertip, in these surroundings, showed his real character.  He had appeared friendly in the settlement; but now he was the relentless savage, a son of the wilds, free as an eagle.  His dignity as a chief kept him aloof from his braves.  He had taken no notice of the prisoners since the capture.  He remained silent, steadily regarding the fire with his somber eyes.  At length, glancing at the big Indian, he motioned toward the prisoners and with a single word stretched himself on the leaves.

Joe noted the same changelessness of expression in the other dark faces as he had seen in Silvertip’s.  It struck him forcibly.  When they spoke in their soft, guttural tones, or burst into a low, not unmusical laughter, or sat gazing stolidly into the fire, their faces seemed always the same, inscrutable, like the depths of the forest now hidden in night.  One thing Joe felt rather than saw—­these savages were fierce and untamable.  He was sorry for Jim, because, as he believed, it would be as easy to teach the panther gentleness toward his prey as to instill into one of these wild creatures a belief in Christ.

The braves manifested keen pleasure in anticipation as to what they would get out of the pack, which the Indian now opened.  Time and again the big brave placed his broad hand on the shoulder of a comrade Indian and pushed him backward.

Finally the pack was opened.  It contained a few articles of wearing apparel, a pair of boots, and a pipe and pouch of tobacco.  The big Indian kept the latter articles, grunting with satisfaction, and threw the boots and clothes to the others.  Immediately there was a scramble.  One brave, after a struggle with another, got possession of both boots.  He at once slipped off his moccasins and drew on the white man’s foot-coverings.  He strutted around in them a few moments, but his proud manner soon changed to disgust.