ed the savage, "but they shall not be led by
Bounding Bull, for his last hour has come."

So saying, the Blackfoot raised his tomahawk, and advanced to the chief,
who drew himself up, and returned his glare of hate with a smile of
contempt. Softswan sprang up with a shriek, and would have flung
herself between them, but was held back by the savage who guarded her.
At that moment the back door of the hut flew open, and Rushing River
stood in the midst of them.

One word from him sent all the savages crestfallen out of the hut. He
followed them. Returning alone a few seconds later, he passed the
astonished captives, and, kneeling down by the couch of the missionary,
said, in tones that were too low to be heard by the others--

"Does my white father remember Rushing River?"

The missionary opened his eyes with a puzzled look of inquiry, and gazed
at the Indian's face.

"Rushing River was but a boy," continued the chief, "when the pale-face
preacher came to the camp of the Blackfeet."

A gleam of intelligence seemed to shoot from the eyes of the dying man.

"Yes, yes," he said faintly; "I remember."

"My father," continued the chief, "spoke to Rushing River about his
sins--about the Great Manitou; about Jesus, the Saviour of all men, and
about the Great Spirit. Rushing River did not believe then--he could
not--but the Great Spirit must have been whispering to him since, for he
believes _now_."

A look of quiet joy settled on the preacher's face while the chief
spoke.

Rousing himself with an effort, he said, as he turned a glance towards
the captives--

"If you truly love Jesus, let these go free."

The chief had to bend down to catch the feebly-spoken words. Rising
instantly, he drew his knife, went to Little Tim, and cut the thongs
that bound him. Then he cut those of Big Tim and Whitewing, and lastly
those of Bounding Bull.

He had scarcely completed the latter act when his old enemy suddenly
snatched the knife out of his hand, caught him by the right arm with a
vice-like grasp, and pointed the weapon at his heart.

"Bounding Bull," he said fiercely, "knows not the meaning of all this,
but he knows that his child is in the Blackfoot camp, and that Rushing
River is at his mercy."

No effort did Rushing River make to avert the impending blow, but stood
perfectly still, and, with a look of simple gravity, said--

"Skipping Rabbit is not in the Blackfoot camp. She is now in the camp
of her kindred