en, he bound the conquered braves, and laid them in
the middle of the track, so that no one could pass that way without
seeing them. Then, addressing the one who seemed to be least stunned,
he said--

"Rushing River is no longer at war with Bounding Bull. He will not slay
and scalp his young men; but the young men have been hasty, and must
suffer for it. When your friends find you and set you free, tell them
that it was Rushing River who brought Skipping Rabbit to her father and
left her near the camp."

"If Rushing River is no longer at war with Bounding Bull," returned the
fallen savage sulkily, "how comes it that we have crossed the trail of a
war-party of Blackfeet on their way to the block-house of the
pale-face?"

This question roused both surprise and concern in the Blackfoot chief,
but his features betrayed no emotion of any kind, and the only reply he
condescended to make was a recommendation to the youth to remember what
he had been told.

When, however, he had left them and got out of hearing, he halted and
said--

"Moonlight has travelled in the region of her father's fort since she
was a little child. Will she guide me to it by the shortest road she
knows!"

The girl of course readily agreed, and, in a few minutes, diverging from
the pass, went off in another direction where the ground permitted of
their advancing at a swift gallop.

We must turn now to another part of those western wilds, not far from
the little hut or fortress named.

In a secluded dell between two spurs of the great mountain range, a
council of war was held on the day of which we write by a party of
Blackfoot Indians. This particular band had been absent on the war-path
for a considerable time, and, having suffered defeat, were returning
home rather crestfallen and without scalps. In passing near the
fortress of Little Tim it occurred to them that they might yet retrieve
their character by assaulting that stronghold and carrying off the booty
that was there, with any scalps that chance might throw in their way.

That night the prairie chief, Little and Big Tim, Bounding Bull, and
Softswan were sitting in a very disconsolate frame of mind beside their
friend the pale-face preacher, whose sunken eye and hollow cheek told of
his rapidly approaching end. Besides the prospect of the death of one
whom they had known and loved so long, they were almost overwhelmed by
despair at the loss of Moonlight and Skipping Rabbit, and t