other's.

"The great chief wrongs my man. All he has done he was forced to do. His
has been the heart to help you. His has been the hand to help you. His has
been the brain to plan for you. So. The others come. They take him
prisoner. He must fight for them or die."

"Then if he fights he is traitor. So he must die."

Nevil had no word for himself. He was beyond words. Even in his extremity
he remembered what Seth had said to him. And he knew now that Seth's
knowledge of the Indians was greater, far deeper, than his. This was his
"dog's chance," but he had not even the privilege of a run.

The irony of his lot did not strike him. Crimes which he had been guilty
of had nothing to do with his present position. Instead, he stood
arraigned for a treachery which had not been his, toward the one man to
whom he had ever been faithful.

But while his craven heart wilted before his savage judge; while his mind
was racked with tortures of suspense, and his scheming brain had lost its
power of concentration; while his limbs shook at the presentiment of his
doom, his woman stood fearless at his side, ready to serve him to the
bitter end, ready to sacrifice herself if need be that his wretched life
might be saved.

Now she replied to her brother's charge, with her beautiful head erect and
her bosom heaving.

"No man is coward who serves you as he has served you," she cried, her
eyes confronting her brother's with all the fearless pride of her race.
"The coward is the other. The one who turns upon his friend and helper
when misfortune drives."

The words stung as they were meant to sting. And something of the old
headstrong passion leapt into the young chief's heart. He pointed at his
sister.

"Enough!" he cried; and a movement of the head conveyed a command to his
attendants. They stepped forward. But Wanaha was quicker. She met them,
and, with upraised hand, waved them back in a manner so imperious that
they paused.

"Little Black Fox forgets!" she cried, addressing herself to her brother,
and ignoring the war-councilors. "No brave may lay hand upon the daughter
of my father. Little Black Fox is chief. My blood is his blood. By the
laws of our race his is the hand that must strike. The daughter of Big
Wolf awaits. Let my brother strike."

As she finished speaking Wanaha bowed her head in token of submission. But
for all his rage the chief was no slayer of his womenfolk. The
ready-witted woman understood the lofty Indi