an spirit of her brother. She
saw her advantage and meant to hold it. She did not know what she hoped.
She did not pause to think. She had a woman's desire to gain time only.
And as she saw her brother draw back she felt that, for the moment at
least, she was mistress of the situation.

"So," she went on, raising her head again and proudly confronting the
angry-eyed youth, "my brother, even in his wrath, remembers the law of our
race. Let him think further, and he will also remember other things. Let
him say to himself, 'I may not slay this man while my sister, Wanaha,
lives. She alone has power to strike. The council of chiefs may condemn,
but she must be the executioner.' So! And my brother will be in the right,
for Wanaha is the blood of Big Wolf, and the white man is her husband."

The headstrong chief was baffled. He knew that the woman was right. The
laws of the Sioux race were as she had said. And they were so stringent
that it would be dangerous to set them aside, even though this man's death
had been decided upon by the unanimous vote of the council. He stood
irresolute, and Wanaha added triumph to her tone as she went on.

"So, great chief, this man's life is mine. And I, Wanaha, your sister,
refuse to take it. For me he is free."

But Wanaha in her womanish enthusiasm had overshot her mark. The laws were
strong, but this wild savage's nature was as untamed and fearless as any
beast of the field. It was her tone of triumph that undid her.

Little Black Fox suddenly whipped out a long hunting-knife from his belt
and flung it upon the table with a great clatter. It lay there, its
vicious, gleaming blade shining dully in the yellow lamplight.

"See!" he cried, his voice thick with fury. "Have your rights! I go. With
the first streak of dawn I come again. Then I slay! Wanaha shall die by my
hand, and then she has no right to the life of the white man!"

* * * * *

The first streak of dawn lit the eastern sky. The horses were grazing,
tethered to their picket ropes within view of the log hut down by the
river. The wagon stood in its place at the side of the building. There was
no firelight to be seen within the building, no lamplight.

The circle of silent squatting figures still held their vigil.

As the daylight grew three figures emerged from the woods and moved
silently to the door of the hut. They paused, listening, but no sound came
from within. One, much ta