bs and wails broke from
the women, and the young wife of the singer came and crouched at his
feet, her little babe in her arms, and this was his song:

"I am going away.
I go to my death.
The white man has said it--
I am to die in a prison.
I am young, but I must go--
I have a wife, but I must go
To die among the white men
In the dark.
So says the soldier chief."

Curtis, looking into the eyes of Black Wolf, perceived that the old man
wavered. The wailing of the women, the young man's song, had roused his
racial hatred--what to him was the killing of a "white robber"?

"Be quiet!" commanded Curtis, and the song ceased. "Get in, quick! No
more singing."

The ending of the song left the prisoner in a mood of gloomy yet passive
exaltation. He took the place indicated and sat with bowed head, his
hands limply crossed.

"Go on!" commanded Curtis, and Two Horns brought the whip down on the
horses. As they sprang forward a wail of agony burst from the lips of
the bereaved young wife. At this cry Cut Finger again turned upon the
agent with hands opened like the claws of a bear--his face contorted
with despair. Curtis seized him in a grip whose crunching power made
itself felt to the marrow of the Tetong's bones, and his eyes, piercing
with terrible determination, shrivelled the resolution of the
half-crazed man. He sank back into his seat, a hopeless lump of swaying
flesh, his face a tragic mask, and uttered no further word till the
sound of a galloping horse made them all turn to see who followed.

"My wife!" the prisoner said. "She carries my baby."

This was indeed true. The sad little wife was galloping after, riding a
strong bay pony, the reins flapping loose, while across the pommel of
her saddle she held her small pappoose, whose faint wailing told of his
discomfort and terror.

"Wait--me take pappoose," the prisoner said, in English, with a note of
command.

Curtis was deeply touched. He ordered Two Horns to halt, and Crow got
out and took the babe and handed it to Cut Finger, who received it
carefully in his long arms. No woman could have been tenderer.

As they drove on, a big lump rose in the soldier's throat. It seemed a
treacherous and sinful thing to hand this man over to a savage throng of
white men, perhaps to be lynched on the road. "I will not do it," he
said; "I will take him to Pinon City myself. He shall have trial as if
he were white. I will yield him to