squaws and children and a few of the very
oldest men. As usual, Dusty Star was left fastened surely by the
deer-skin thong.

The day was very warm, and so he sat just outside the tepee observing
the sleepy life of the camp as it went leisurely on through the long
passing of the drowsy afternoon. Kitsomax sat a few feet away, busily
softening a tanned buckskin, which she worked skilfully with her skinny
hands. Several times, Dusty Star noticed that her eyes were upon him
instead of the buckskin, and that then her gaze wandered uneasily round
the camp, as if to see whether any one were watching her. The air was
very still. Apart from the camp, nothing living could be seen, except a
pair of buzzards circling high up in the eastern blue.

Suddenly Kitsomax, after a swift glance all round, leant towards him,
speaking rapidly.

"They will hold the festival after Catawa is driven away. And then they
will kill you, because your wolf killed Little Owl; and because Double
Runner says you belong to the wolves. But I, Kitsomax, do not believe
you intended to harm us. If they had not followed you, your wolf would
not have attacked. If you do as I tell you, you may yet escape before
the festival begins. You must ..."

Here the old squaw broke off suddenly, and bent over her work. Turning
his head, Dusty Star saw that a woman had come out from a neighbouring
tepee, and was looking in their direction.

After that, Kitsomax did not say any more, and Dusty Star went on
staring into the forest, where the shadows looked so cool under the
trees. The words the squaw had said kept on running in his head. "They
will kill you, because your wolf killed Little Owl." The thing of which
the great fear had haunted him since his captivity was true then! The
thing Kiopo had done was to be avenged by his own death. He shuddered as
he thought of the terrible fate in store for him. He knew that Indian
vengeance could be more cruel than the wolves. He longed to ask Kitsomax
if she had heard what had happened to the wolf; but whenever he turned
to do so, it seemed to him that some one was looking their way.

And the thing she had told him was a terror which grew. And although he
looked straight into the forest, he saw it merely as a dense green mass.
What he saw was the terror--the thing that should happen when the
Indians returned.

But all at once the vacancy of his gaze vanished. From the shadow of the
trees, he saw a large form slowly detach i