“Is that so?” shouted Sandy springing to his feet.

“Yes, that’s so!” answered George.  “I wish you and Thede would go out for a ramble.  If you don’t know what else to do, walk over to the river and catch a fish.  That’ll go all right for supper.”

“You’re on!” cried Sandy.

The boys were ready for the trip in a very few moments.  It was not necessary now to provide against mosquitoes and “bull-dogs,” for the sudden cold spell had effectually silenced them for the winter.

“Now don’t you fellows come home unless you bring about twenty pounds of trout,” George directed as the two lads opened the door and disappeared from sight.

The boys had proceeded but a short distance when Sandy called his companion’s attention to a peculiar foot-print in the snow.

“I guess we must be approaching the corner of State and Madison again!” he laughed.  “We come out into the woods to commune with nature, and find some new party butting in every time we turn around.”

“That’s an Indian’s foot-print!” declared Thede.

“How do you know that?” demanded Sandy.  “You haven’t seen any Indian, have you?  How can you tell an Indian’s foot-print from any one else’s?  That may be a white man’s step, for all we know!”

“Nay, nay, me son!” laughed Thede.  “I know by the shape of the moccasin and by the way the fellow walks.”

“You know a whole lot of things!” laughed Sandy.  “If you keep on accumulating knowledge, you’ll beat Tommy out of his job as the Sherlock Holmes of the party!”

“Well, if you don’t believe he’s an Indian, you’d better go and ask him!” Thede argued.  “He’s right over there in the thicket!”

Sandy gave a quick start of alarm and put his hand back to his automatic.  Thede motioned him to leave his gun where it was.

“This is a friendly Indian,” the boy explained.  “I’ve often heard Pierre refer to him.  He’s called Oje, but I don’t know whether that’s his name or not.  He’s said to be the champion fisherman of this section, and if you really want to get fish for supper, we’d better get him interested.”

Oje was not a very romantic looking Indian, his general appearance being that of a bear fitted out with about three hides.  The boys noticed, however, that none of the clothing he wore was fastened closely about his waist or throat.  In fact, as he joined them with a grunt, they saw that the roughly-made garments were nearly all open.

The Indian knows better than to bring his clothing where it will come in contact with either his breath or with perspiration.  Should he do this in very severe weather, he would soon find everything about him frozen stiff.  He is sure, however, to carry enough clothing with him to keep him warm in repose and during the long nights.

“How do you know that’s Oje?” whispered Sandy, as the Indian stood looking questioningly at the two boys.