iage and superb figure of the
savage.

It was the chief who was the first to speak. The flowing tongue of the
Sioux sounded melodious in the rich tones of the speaker's voice. He spoke
without a touch of the fiery eloquence which had been his when he was yet
the untried leader of his race. The man seemed to have suddenly matured.
He was no longer the headstrong boy that had conceived an overwhelming
passion for a white girl, but a warrior of his race, a warrior and a
leader.

"My brother would go from his friends? So?" he said in feigned surprise.
"And my sister, Wanaha?"

"Wanaha obeys her lord. Whither he goes she goes. It is good."

The squaw was alive to the position, but, unlike her white husband, she
rose to the occasion. The haughty manner of the chief was no more haughty
than hers. She was blood of this man, and no less royal than he. Her deep
eyes were alert and shining now. The savage was dominant in her again. She
was, indeed, a princess of her race.

"And whither would they go, this white brother and his squaw?" There was
a slight irony in the Indian's voice.

Again the squaw answered.

"We go where white men and Indians live in peace."

"No white man or Indian lives in peace where he goes."

Little Black Fox pointed scornfully at the cowering white man. The squaw
had no answer ready. But the renegade himself found his tongue and
answered.

"We go until the white man's anger is passed," he said. "Then we return to
the great chief's camp."

For a while the young chieftain's eyes seemed to burn into those of the
man before him, so intense was the angry fire of his gaze.

"You go," he said at last, "because you fear to stay. It is not the white
man you fear, but the Indian you have betrayed. Your tongue lies, your
heart lies. You are neither brave nor squaw-man. Your heart is the heart
of a snake that is filled with venom. Your brain is like the mire of the
muskeg which sucks, sucks its victims down to destruction. Your blood is
like the water of a mosquito swamp, poisonous even to the air. I have
eyes; I have ears. I learn all these things, and I say nothing. The hunter
uses a poisoned weapon. It matters not so that he brings down his quarry.
But his weapon is for his quarry, and not for himself. He destroys it
when there is danger that he shall get hurt by it. You are a poisoned
weapon, and you have sought to hurt me. So."

Wanaha suddenly stepped forward. Her great eyes blazed up into her
br