s?"

"Deerfoot is a Shawanoe, whose warriors have consorted with those of the
Winnebagos; but Deerfoot has left his lodge beyond the Mississippi and
lives alone in the woods. He will not hurt the brave Winnebago who
fights men, but he slays the Wolf that bites the children of the pale
faces, that have never harmed him."

Possibly the Wolf was inclined to argue the matter with the Shawanoe,
who had caught him at such disadvantage; but the manner and words of
Deerfoot showed that he was in no mood for discussion.

"What does my brother want?" asked the Winnebago, in a voice that
proved all fight had left him. The most, indeed, that he ventured to do
was gently to rub his forehead and nose, where the fists of the sturdy
Terry Clark had landed.

"Let the Wolf rise to his feet, but when he does so, his gun must lie on
the ground."

This was a harsh order, but there was no help for it; the Indian
hesitated a moment, and then, black and scowling, he slowly assumed the
upright posture, and, folding his arms across his chest, looked in the
face of the bright-eyed Deerfoot, to signify that he was awaiting his
next command.

"The Wolf shall now turn his face away from Deerfoot."

The Winnebago obeyed the order as promptly as if he were a soldier
undergoing drill.

"Let my brother now raise his eyes, until he sees the beech with the
white trunk," said Deerfoot, using the word "brother" for the first
time.

The object to which he alluded was perhaps fifty yards distant, the
light color of the bark showing only here and there among the branches
and undergrowth that happened to be less frequent than in other
directions. The Wolf signified that he recognized the tree to which his
conqueror referred.

"Now let my brother run; when he reaches the beech he can leap behind
it, and it will shield his body; if my brother is slow Deerfoot may fire
his gun and Wolf will never bite again."

The Winnebago wanted no explanation of this threat. It was hard for him
to depart, leaving his rifle, but it was harder for him to lose his
life, and he did not hesitate as to the choice. He made one tremendous
bound that carried him a dozen feet, and then sped through the wood like
a frightened deer. When he had passed half of the intervening distance,
he seemed to fancy that he was not making satisfactory time for the
Shawanoe, who, he doubtless imagined, was standing with leveled gun,
finger on the trigger. He therefore began leaping from s