“If ye have a Dog or a Horse with ye he kin bring ye home all right.  Never knew them to fail but oncet, an’ that was a fool Horse; there is sech oncet in awhile, though there’s more fool Dogs.

“But come right down to it, the compass is the safest thing.  The sun and stars is next, an’ if ye know your friends will come ye’r best plan is to set right down and make two smoke fires, keep them a-going, holler every little while, and keep calm.  Ye won’t come to no harm unless ye’r a blame fool, an’ such ought to stay to hum, where they’ll be nursed.”

XIII

Tanning Skins and Making Moccasins

Sam had made a find.  A Calf had been killed and its skin hung limp on a beam in the barn.  His father allowed him to carry this off, and now he appeared with a “fresh Buffalo hide to make a robe.”

“I don’t know how the Injuns dress their robes,” he explained, “but Caleb does, and he’ll tell you, and, of course, I’ll pay no attention.”

The old Trapper had nothing to do, and the only bright spots in his lonely life, since his own door was shut in his face, were visits to the camp.  These had become daily, so it was taken as a matter of course when, within an hour after Sam’s return, he “happened round.”

“How do the Indians tan furs and robes?” Yan asked at once.

“Wall, different ways—­”

But before he could say more Hawkeye reappeared and shouted: 

“Say, boys, Paw’s old Horse died!” and he grinned joyfully, merely because he was the bearer of news.

“Sappy, you grin so much your back teeth is gettin’ sunburned,” and the Head Chief eyed him sadly.

“Well, it’s so, an’ I’m going to skin out his tail for a scalp.  I bet I’ll be the Injunest one of the crowd.”

“Why don’t you skin the hull thing, an’ I’ll show you how to make lots of Injun things of the hide,” Caleb added, as he lighted his pipe.

“Will you help me?

“It’s same as skinnin a Calf.  I’ll show you where to get the sewing sinew after the hide’s off.”

So the whole camp went to Burns’s field.  Guy hung back and hid when he saw his father there drawing the dead Horse away with the plough team.

“Good-day, Jim,” was Caleb’s greeting, for they were good friends.  “Struck hard luck with the Horse?”

“No!  Not much.  Didn’t cost nothing; got him for boot in a swap.  Glad he’s dead, for he was foundered.”

“We want his skin, if you don’t.”

“You’re welcome to the hull thing.”

“Well, just draw it over by the line fence we’ll bury what’s left when we’re through.”

“All right.  You hain’t seen that durn boy o’ mine, have you?”

“Why, yes; I seen him not long ago,” said Sam.  “He was p’inting right for home then.”

“H-m.  Maybe I’ll find him at the house.”

“Maybe you will.”  Then Sam added under his breath, “I don’t think.”