hope for us. The bullets came near, but none touched us."

"I dinks different," was the unexpected remark of Otto, who,
assuming the sitting position, took off his cap, and, after fumbling
awhile through his shock of yellow hair, actually found a ball,
which he held up between his fingers.

"Vot don't you dinks ob him, eh?" he asked, triumphantly.

The amazed Jack took the object and examined it. No need was there
of doing so; it was a rifle ball beyond question.

"How in the name of all that's wonderful did that get into your
hair?" asked his friend.

"I 'spose he was shot dere, and my head was too hard for it to pass
through, so he stops, don't it?"

The canoe was so close to shore that Deerfoot stopped paddling for
the moment and extended his band for the missile. He simply held it
up, glanced at it, and then tossed it back to Otto with the remark:

"The head of my brother is thick like the rock, but the ball was not
fired from a gun."

With a bewildered expression, as though some forgotten fact was
beginning to dawn upon him, Otto laid his cap in his lap and began
searching through his hair with both hands. A moment later, his
face beamed with one of his most expansive smiles, and he showed two
more rifle-bullets that had been fished from the capillary depths.