“It is nothing more, nor less, than the hide of a buffaloe,” continued the trapper, who had been no less puzzled by the explanation of Paul, than by the language of the Doctor; “the hair is beneath; the fire has run over it as you see; for being fresh, the flames could take no hold. The beast has not been long killed, and it may be that some of the beef is still hereaway.”

“Lift the corner of the skin, old trapper,” said Paul, with the tone of one, who felt, as if he had now proved his right to mingle his voice in any council; “if there is a morsel of the hump left, it must be well cooked, and it shall be welcome.”

The old man laughed, heartily, at the conceit of his companion. Thrusting his foot beneath the skin, it moved. Then it was suddenly cast aside, and an Indian warrior sprang from its cover, to his feet, with an agility, that bespoke how urgent he deemed the occasion.