while, we had him secure. He would not be found till the hunt was
over and the carts came for the skins.

Mounting the broncho, which Little Fellow had caught and brought back, I
ordered the Indians to get their horses and follow; and I rode up to the
level prairie. Against the southern horizon shone the yellow birch of a
wigwam. Vague movements were apparent through the long grass, from which
we conjectured the raiders were hastening back with news of Diable's
capture. We must reach the Sioux camp before these messengers caused
another mysterious disappearing of this fugitive tribe.

We whipped our horses to a gallop. Again thin smoke lines arose from the
prairie and simultaneously the wigwam began to vanish. I had almost
concluded the tepee was one of those delusive mirages which lead prairie
riders on fools' errands, when I descried figures mounting ponies where
the peaked camp had stood. At this we lashed our horses to faster pace.
The Sioux galloped off and more smoke lines were rising.

"What do those mean, Little Fellow?" I asked; for there was smoke in a
dozen places ahead.

"The prairie's on fire, _Monsieur_! The Sioux have put burnt stick in
dry grass! The wind--it blow--it come hard--fast--fast this way!" and
all four Indians reined up their horses as if they would turn.

"Coward Indians," I cried. "Go on! Who's put off the trail by the fire
of a fool Sioux? Get through the fire before it grows big, or it will
catch you all and burn you to a crisp."

The gathering smoke was obscuring the fugitives and my Indians still
hung back. Where the Indian refuses to be coerced, he may be won by
reward, or spurred by praise of bravery.

"Ten horses to the brave who catches a Sioux!" I shouted. "Come on,
Indians! Who follows? Is the Indian less brave than the pale face?" and
we all dashed forward, spurring our hard-ridden horses without mercy.
Each Indian gave his horse the bit. Beating them over the head, they
craned flat over the horses' necks to lessen resistance to the air. A
boisterous wind was fanning the burning grass to a great tide of fire
that rolled forward in forked tongues; but beyond the flames were
figures of receding riders; and we pressed on. Cinders rained on us like
liquid fire, scorching and maddening our horses; but we never paused.
The billowy clouds of smoke that rolled to meet us were blinding, and
the very atmosphere, livid and quivering with heat, seemed to become a
fiery fluid that envel