“Me know all such,” replied the Indian.  “Little wagon make much puff-puff like boy’s heap big medicine train.  No horse push or pull ’um.  Eagle Feather hab good horse, him run fast and stop quick, sometimes, byemby, like squaw, Eagle Feather fall off.  But horse good—­now somebody take.  Somebody take Eagle Feather’s horse.”

“Maybe he wandered away,” said Mr. Brown.  “Horses often do that you know, when you tie them in the woods where flies bite them.”

“Yes, Eagle Feather know that.  But how you say—­him rope broke or cut?” and the Indian held out a halter made of rope, with a piece of rope dangling from it.  Mr. Brown looked closely at it.

“Why, that’s been cut!” exclaimed the children’s father, for the end of the rope by which the horse had been tied was smooth, and not broken and rough, as it would have been had it been pulled apart.  If you will cut a rope and then break another piece, you can easily see the difference.

“Sure, cut!” exclaimed Eagle Feather.  “Done last night when all dark.  Indians at corn dance and maybe sleepy.  No hear some one come up soft to Eagle Feather’s barn and take out horse.  Have to cut rope ’cause Indian tie knot white man find too much hard to make loose.”

“So you think a white man took your horse, and that’s why you come to us?” asked Mr. Brown.

“Yes.  You know much white man.  Maybe so like one ask you hide my horse in your tent.”

“Indeed not!” cried Mr. Brown.  “I haven’t any friends who would steal a man’s horse.”

“Maybe not,” went on the Indian.  “But night of green corn dance him come to see it and your boy too,” and Eagle Feather pointed first at Tom and then at Bunny.

“We didn’t see Eagle Feather’s horse!” cried out Bunny Brown.

“Easy, my boy,” said his father.  “Let’s get at what Eagle Feather means.”

Before he could ask a question the Indian pointed a finger at Tom and asked sharply: 

“You see my horse night you come green corn dance?”

“Not a sign of him did I see,” answered Tom quickly.  “And I wasn’t nearer the middle of the village, where the campfire was, than half a mile.  We didn’t take your horse, Eagle Feather.”

“Maybe so not.  Eagle Feather thought maybe you might see,” went on the red man.  “Me know you good boy, Tom—­good to Indians.  These little Brown boy an’ gal—­they good too.

“But we walk along path horse took, and marks of him feet come right to this camp.”

“Is that so?” asked Mr. Brown.  “We’ll have to look into this.  Perhaps the thief did pass among our tents to hide the direction he really took.  We’ll have a look in the morning.  It’s too dark now.”

Indeed it was very dark, the campfire throwing out but fitful gleams, for enough of the roasted ears had been cooked to suit every one.  Eagle Feather bade his friends good-bye, remarking again how sorry he was over losing his horse, and he said he would see them all in the morning.