re discovered.

There was no time to make sure. An instant's delay might be fatal. He
leapt to his feet and made a blind rush, calling to Kiopo as he did so.

The Indians were taken by surprise. Before they realized what had
happened, both boy and wolf were clear of the enclosing ring.

The prairie! To reach that was Dusty Star's one hope. Once out upon that
he would trust to his speed and the darkness of the night. He shot
forward at a headlong pace, urged by a frenzied fear. Behind him he
heard the swish and thud of racing moccasins. Also there were cries. The
cries struck terror into him as much as the feet. And they were terribly
close.

On he sped, Kiopo running at his side. The fact that they were together
seemed to lend him extra speed. He knew without a doubt that they were
running for their lives. Had not Sitting-Always cried "_Kill! Kill!_"?

It was fortunate that his constant going to and fro upon the prairie had
made him completely familiar with the lie of the land. If he continued
in the same direction as he was going, he knew that he would reach
broken ground where it would be impossible to keep up the pace, and not
risk a fall. He swerved to the north. To swerve was to lose ground, but
he dared not take the risk.

The sound of moccasins drew nearer. It seemed plain that some, at least,
of his pursuers had discovered the alteration in his course. With every
muscle and nerve strained to the utmost, Dusty Star fled desperately on.

From the sound behind, he judged that the Indian who was gaining was in
advance of his companions. Kiopo made the same judgment with even
greater exactitude as to actual distance. For a moment or two, the wolf
dropped a little behind. Before Dusty Star had grasped what was
happening, there was a snarling growl, a noise as of a falling body, and
the sound of the moccasins ceased. A second or two afterwards, Kiopo was
again running at his side.

After that the sounds of pursuit died gradually away. But for a long
time Dusty Star continued his flight. When he felt that he could run no
further, he let himself sink to the ground, and lay for a long time,
grasping for breath.

When at last his breathing became regular, he felt the dewy vastness of
the prairie night cover him as with a robe. The darkness, the quiet,
above all, the sense of immense relief after the danger escaped, lulled
him, and he slept.

As dawn broke, he was on his feet, for he dared not risk remaining in