ame hands. He rolled out.
He tore the blind from his eyes. It was dark. The spirits had quenched
their star torches. No souls of dead warriors danced on the fire plain
of the northern sky! The father of winds let loose a blast to drown all
sound and help good Indian against the pig Sioux! He ran like a hare. He
leaped like a deer. He came as the arrows from the bow of the great
hunter. Thus had he escaped from the Sioux!

Little Fellow ceased speaking, wrapped himself in robes and fell asleep.

I could not doubt whose were the liberator's hands, and I marveled that
she had not come with him. Had she known of our efforts at all? It
seemed unlikely. Else, with the liberty she had, to come to Little
Fellow, surely she would have tried to escape. On the other hand, her
immunity from torture might depend on never attempting to regain
freedom.

Now I knew what to expect if I were captured by the Sioux. Yet, given
another stormy night, if Little Fellow and I were near the Sioux with
fleet horses, could not Miriam be rescued in the same way he had
escaped? Until Little Fellow had eaten and slept back to his normal
condition of courage, it would be useless to propose such a hazardous
plan. Indeed, I decided to send him to some point on the northern trail,
where I could join him and go alone to the Sioux camp. This would be
better than sitting still to be given as a hostage to the Sioux. If the
worst happened and I were captured, had I the courage to endure Indian
tortures? A man endures what he must endure, whether he will, or not;
and I certainly had not courage to leave the country without one blow
for Miriam's freedom.

With these thoughts, I gathered my belongings in preparation for secret
departure from the Mandanes that night. Then I prepared breakfast, saw
Little Fellow lie back in a dead sleep, and strolled out among the
lodges.

Four days had passed without the coming of the avengers. The villagers
were disposed to forget their guilt and treat me less sulkily. As I
sauntered towards the north hill, pleasant words greeted me from the
lodges.

"Be not afraid, my son," exhorted Chief Black Cat. "Lend a deaf ear to
bad talk! No harm shall befall the white man! Be not afraid!"

"Afraid!" I flouted back. "Who's afraid, Black Cat? Only white-livered
cowards fear the Sioux! Surely no Mandane brave fears the Sioux--ugh!
The cowardly Sioux!"

My vaunting pleased the old chief mightily; for the Indian is nothing if
not