oundaries of their place of concealment.

Each minute added to the jeopardy of the fugitives. Paul and Middleton
deliberately prepared their rifles, and as the occupied Mahtoree came,
at length, within fifty feet of them, keeping his eyes riveted on the
grass through which he rode, they levelled them together and pulled the
triggers. The effort was answered by the mere snapping of the locks.

"Enough," said the old man, rising with dignity; "I have cast away the
priming; for certain death would follow your rashness. Now let us meet
our fates like men. Cringing and complaining find no favour in Indian
eyes."

His appearance was greeted by a yell, that spread far and wide over the
plain, and in a moment a hundred savages were seen riding madly to the
spot. Mahtoree received his prisoners with great self-restraint, though
a single gleam of fierce joy broke through his clouded brow, and the
heart of Middleton grew cold as he caught the expression of that eye,
which the chief turned on the nearly insensible but still lovely Inez.

The exultation of receiving the white captives was so great, as for
a time to throw the dark and immovable form of their young Indian
companion entirely out of view. He stood apart, disdaining to turn an
eye on his enemies, as motionless as if he were frozen in that attitude
of dignity and composure. But when a little time had passed, even this
secondary object attracted the attention of the Tetons. Then it was that
the trapper first learned, by the shout of triumph and the long drawn
yell of delight, which burst at once from a hundred throats, as well as
by the terrible name, which filled the air, that his youthful friend
was no other than that redoubtable and hitherto invincible warrior,
Hard-Heart.

CHAPTER XXV

What, are ancient Pistol and you friends, yet?
--Shakspeare.

The curtain of our imperfect drama must fall, to rise upon another
scene. The time is advanced several days, during which very material
changes had occurred in the situation of the actors. The hour is noon,
and the place an elevated plain, that rose, at no great distance from
the water, somewhat abruptly from a fertile bottom, which stretched
along the margin of one of the numberless water-courses of that region.
The river took its rise near the base of the Rocky Mountains, and,
after washing a vast extent of plain, it mingled its waters with a
still