In the clear water Joe could see the cunning trap which had caused the death of Bill, and insured the captivity of himself and his brother.  The crafty savages had trimmed a six-inch sapling and anchored it under the water.  They weighted the heavy end, leaving the other pointing upstream.  To this last had been tied the grapevine.  When the drifting raft reached the sapling, the Indians concealed in the willows pulled hard on the improvised rope; the end of the sapling stuck up like a hook, and the aft was caught and held.  The killing of the helmsman showed the Indians’ foresight; even had the raft drifted on downstream the brothers would have been helpless on a craft they could not manage.  After all, Joe thought, he had not been so far wrong when he half fancied that an Indian lay behind Shawnee Rock, and he marveled at this clever trick which had so easily effected their capture.

But he had little time to look around at the scene of action.  There was a moment only in which to study the river to learn if the unfortunate raftsman’s body had appeared.  It was not to be seen.  The river ran swiftly and hid all evidence of the tragedy under its smooth surface.  When the brave who had gone back to the raft for the goods joined his companion the two hurried Joe up the bank after the others.

Once upon level ground Joe saw before him an open forest.  On the border of this the Indians stopped long enough to bind the prisoners’ wrists with thongs of deerhide.  While two of the braves performed this office, Silvertip leaned against a tree and took no notice of the brothers.  When they were thus securely tied one of their captors addressed the chief, who at once led the way westward through the forest.  The savages followed in single file, with Joe and Jim in the middle of the line.  The last Indian tried to mount Lance; but the thoroughbred would have none of him, and after several efforts the savage was compelled to desist.  Mose trotted reluctantly along behind the horse.

Although the chief preserved a dignified mien, his braves were disposed to be gay.  They were in high glee over their feat of capturing the palefaces, and kept up an incessant jabbering.  One Indian, who walked directly behind Joe, continually prodded him with the stock of a rifle; and whenever Joe turned, the brawny redskin grinned as he grunted, “Ugh!” Joe observed that this huge savage had a broad face of rather a lighter shade of red than his companions.  Perhaps he intended those rifle-prods in friendliness, for although they certainly amused him, he would allow no one else to touch Joe; but it would have been more pleasing had he shown his friendship in a gentle manner.  This Indian carried Joe’s pack, much to his own delight, especially as his companions evinced an envious curiosity.  The big fellow would not, however, allow them to touch it.

“He’s a cheerful brute,” remarked Joe to Jim.

“Ugh!” grunted the big Indian, jamming Joe with his rifle-stock.