on the mind. I know I suffered, but there are only
fragments of recollections covering that black period of waiting.

I have a clear picture of the warrior holding the end of the cord calling
for some one to bring a gourd of water. I do not remember drinking, but as
later I found the front of my shirt soaked I assume the water was for me.
Coherent memory resumes with the noise the warriors made in returning to
the camp. I shall never forget their appearance as they emerged from the
undergrowth. Black Hoof walked ahead. Close behind him came two warriors
dragging Dale.

I was amazed to behold Patricia in the procession. She was leaning on Lost
Sister's arm, and there was a lump on her forehead as though she had been
struck most brutally. Then came the warriors and Ward. Dale was roughly
thrown to the ground. Several men began trimming the branches from a stout
sapling. Others became busy searching the fallen timber for dry wood.

Ward walked over to me and kicked me in the side. I must have groaned
aloud, for he commanded:

"Shut up! I'm ripe for a killing."

Matters had gone against his liking. He played with his ax nervously, his
baleful gaze darting about the camp. I waited and at last his race
heritage compelled him to talk, and he commenced:

"The old man was scared into doing what the chief told him to do. He would
not at first, and the men were sent to bring the girl along. When he faced
her he made a noise like a sheep bleating. Then he ran to the clearing and
began his talk. The girl heard his words. She broke away and ran into
sight of the cabins and screamed for them not to listen, that it was a
trap. Black Hoof struck her with the flat of his ax. Now he swears he'll
roast the fool."

"She is your prisoner!" I cried.

"He says she must burn."

"There must be some way, something you can do!" I wildly insisted, my only
thought being to spare her the immediate danger.

"I want her for my squaw bad enough to get her if I can," he growled. "But
if I'm to think of any plan I must be quick. They've got the stake nearly
ready."

He walked to where the warriors were collecting small fuel from between
the fallen trees. One of them hauled a hollow maple log out of the debris
and threw it to one side as being too heavy for a quick fire. Ward halted
and rested a foot on it and bowed his head. Next he began tapping it with
his tomahawk. His actions attracted the attention of the men, and Black
Hoof asked:

"W