I looked at the piece in surprise, for the lock was broken.  “It cannot have been done since you came,” I said.  “There is no one in the house but ourselves.”

“Of course not, of course not!” said the Panther, eager to show that he had no suspicion of his friends.

“Did you stop anywhere on your way?”

“Yes,” said he with some slight embarrassment.  “Stop at Ryan’s,” mentioning a low tavern on the borders of the reservation, which was a terrible thorn in the side of all the missionary’s efforts.  “Stop a minute light my pipe, but no drink one drop,” he added with great earnestness; “but they ask me good deal.”

“Did you put your gun down?”

“Guess so,” he said after a moment’s reflection.  “Yes, know did put it down a minute or two.”

“Then that was when the mischief was done, you may be sure.  This lock was never broken by accident.  It must have been a mere piece of spite because you would not stay.  I wonder you did not notice it when you came out.”

“In a hurry, and kept the buckskin over it, not to git it wet.  Wish knew who did that,” said he, with a look not good to see.  “Guess not do it again.”

“I am very sorry, but it can easily be mended.”

I spread out on the floor for him the comfortable and blankets I had brought for his use, and hung up his woolen hunting-frock, now quite dry.

As I took it into my hand, I felt something very heavy in the pocket.

“I hope you have nothing here that will be spoiled with wet?” I said.

“Oh, nothing but money,” said the chief, carelessly.  “Mean to tell Minny to take some of it and buy clothes for me.”

He took out as he spoke a handful of loose change—­copper, silver and two or three gold-pieces—­and a roll of bills a good deal damp, and put it all into my apron.  I counted the money and found there were seventy-five dollars.  Strong indeed must have been the attraction which had brought the old man away from the tavern-fire in his sober senses with such a sum of money in his pocket.

“Just got that,” he said.  “Part from Washington, part sell deer-skins.”

There was no need to tell me that it had not been long in his possession.  Money in the Panther’s hands was like water in a sieve.

“You give me five dollars, give the rest to Minny,” he said; and as this was by much the wisest arrangement for him, I did as he wished.

“You got captain’s gun?” he asked me.  “Never like to go to sleep without something to catch up:  hit somebody ’spose somebody come.”

“I am sorry to say the captain has his rifle with him, and I lent the shotgun to Jim Brewster this afternoon.”

He looked annoyed, but he went out into the woodshed and returned with the axe, which was new and sharp.  “Have something, anyway,” he said, doggedly.

“Why, what do you think can possibly happen?”

“Don’t know.  Always like to have something to catch up.  Good-night, mamma.  You go to sleep.”