y-eight hours had created an entirely new
environment, and with extraordinary facility his mind had adjusted
itself to this environment, and though two days before he would have
shrunk in horror from the possibility of taking a human life, he knew
as he stood there that at the first sign of attack he should shoot the
Indian down like a wild beast.

Slowly Little Thunder raised himself to a sitting posture and looked
about in dazed surprise. As his mind regained its normal condition there
deepened in his eyes a look of cunning hatred. With difficulty he rose
to his feet and stood facing Cameron. Cameron waited quietly, watching
his every move.

"You go in front!" at length commanded Cameron. "And no nonsense, mind
you," he added, tapping his rifle, "or I shoot quick."

The Indian might not have understood all Cameron's words, but he was in
no doubt as to his meaning. It was characteristic of his race that he
should know when he was beaten and stoically accept defeat for the time
being. Without further word or look he led off his pack ponies, while
Cameron took his place at the rear.

But progress was slow. Little Thunder was either incapable of rapid
motion or sullenly indifferent to any necessity for it. Besides, there
was no demoniacal dynamic forcing the beasts on from the rear. They had
not been more than three hours on the trail when Cameron heard behind
him the thundering of hoofs. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw coming
down upon him Raven, riding as if pursued by a thousand demons. The
condition of his horse showed that the race had been long and hard; his
black satin skin was dripping as if he had come through a river, his
eyes were bloodshot and starting from his head, his mouth was wide open
and from it in large clots the foam had fallen upon his neck and chest.

Past Cameron and down upon Little Thunder Raven rushed like a whirlwind,
yelling with wild oaths the while,

"Get on! Get on! What are you loafing about here for?"

A few vehement directions to the Indian and he came thundering back upon
Cameron.

"What have you been doing?" he cried with an oath. "Why are you not
miles on? Get on! Move! Move!! Move!!!" At every yell he hurled his
frenzied broncho upon the ponies which brought up the rear, and in a few
minutes had the whole cavalcade madly careering down the sloping trail.
Wilder and wilder grew the pace. Turning a sharp corner round a jutting
rock a pack pony stumbled and went crashing fif