Paul waited without fear.  He could barely see a dark, shapeless outline within the dimness of his hut, but he was sure it was the figure of the slouching warrior who had bumped against him.  The man stood a moment or two, seeking to pierce the dusk with his own eyes, and then he said in a low voice: 

“Paul!  Paul!  Is it you?”

“Yes,” replied Paul, in the same guarded tone, “but I don’t know who you are.”

The figure swayed a little and laughed low, but with much amusement.

“It ‘pears to me that we are forgot purty soon,” it said.  “An’ I’ve worked hard fur a tired man.”

Then Paul knew the familiar, whimsical tone.  The light had burst upon him all at once.

“Shif’less Sol!” he exclaimed.

“Jest me,” said Sol; “an’ ain’t I about the purtiest Shawnee warrior you ever saw?  Why, Paul, I’m so good at playin’ a loafin’ savage from some other village that nary a Shawnee o’ them all has dreamed that I am what I ain’t.  If ever I go back thar in the East, I’m goin’ to be a play-actor, Paul.”

“You can be anything on earth you want to be, Sol!” said Paul jubilantly.  “It was mighty good of you to come.”

“You’d a-thought Henry would a-come,” whispered Sol; “but we decided that he was too tall an’ somehow too strikin’-lookin’ to come in here ez a common, everyday Injun, so it fell to me to loaf in, me bein’ a tired-lookin’ sort o’ feller, anyway.  But they’re out thar in the woods a-waitin’, Henry an’ Tom Ross an’ that ornery cuss, Jim Hart.”

“I knew that you fellows would never desert me!” exclaimed Paul.

“Why, o’ course not!” said Sol.  “We never dreamed o’ leavin’ you.  Now, Paul, we’ve got to git through this village somehow or other.  Lucky it’s purty dark, an’ you’ll have to do your best to walk an’ look like a Red.  Maybe we kin git fur enough to make a good run fur it, and then, with the woods an’ the night helpin’ us, we may give them the slip.  Here, take this.”

He pressed something cold and hard into Paul’s hand, and Paul slipped the pistol into his belt, standing erect and feeling himself much of a man.

“It’s time to be goin’,” said Shif’less Sol.

“I’m ready,” said Paul.

But neither took more than a single step forward, stopping together as they heard a light noise at the door.

“Thunder an’ lightnin’!” said Shif’less Sol, under his breath.  “Somebody’s suspectin’.”

“It looks like it,” breathed Paul.

“Lay down on the skins and pretend to be asleep,” said Shif’less Sol.

Paul lay down on the couch at once, in the attitude of one who slumbers, and closed his eyes—­all but a little.  Shif’less Sol shoved himself into the corner, and blotted out his figure against the wall.