of cards, and was beside Miriam. Again I heard Louis' whistle
and again the squaw's angry scream; but Little Fellow had followed on my
heels and stood with knife-blade glittering bare at the tent-entrance.

"Hush," I whispered, slashing my dagger through the thongs around her
hands and cutting the rope that held her to the central stake. "We've
found you at last. Come! Come!" and I caught her up.

"O my God!" she cried. "At last! At last! Where is the child? They have
taken little Eric!"

"We have him safe! His father is waiting! Don't hesitate, Miriam!"

"Run, Little Fellow," I ordered, "Across the camp. Get the child," and I
sprang from the wigwam, which crashed to the ground behind me. I had
thought to save skirting the woods by a run across the camping-ground;
but when my Indian dashed for the child and the Sioux saw me undefended
with the white woman in my arms, she made a desperate lunge at Laplante
and called at the top of her voice for the braves.

Louis, with weapons in hand, still kept between the fury and Miriam; but
I think his French chivalry must have been restraining him. Though the
Sioux offered him many opportunities and was doing her best to sheathe a
knife in his heart, he seemed to refrain from using either dagger or
pistol. An insolent laugh was on his face. The life-and-death game which
he was playing was to his daring spirit something novel and amusing.

"The lady is--perturbed," he laughed, dodging a thrust at his neck; "she
fences wide, tra-la," this as the barrel of his pistol parried a drive
of her knife; "she hits afar--ho--ho--not so fast, my fury--not so
furious, my fair--zipp, ha--ha--ha--another miss--another miss--the
lady's a-miss," for the squaw's weapon struck fire against his own.

"Look out for the braves, have a care," I shouted; for a dozen young
bucks were running up behind to the woman's aid.

"Ha--ha---_prenez garde_--my tiger-cat has kittens," he laughed; and he
looked over his shoulder.

That backward look gave the fury her opportunity. In the firelight blue
steel flashed bright. The Frenchman reeled, threw up his arms, and
fell. One sharp, deep, broken draw of breath, and with a laugh on his
lips, Louis Laplante died as he had lived. Then the tiger-cat leaped
over the dead form at Miriam and me.

What happened next I can no more set down consecutively than I can
distinguish the parts in a confused picture with a red-eyed fury
striking at me, naked Indians brandish