estion of supremacy was settled forever.

Slowly recoiling a couple of steps, he folded his arms, and, with a
dignity that was touching, said, in a slow, deliberate voice, with his
softened gaze fixed on the countenance of his conqueror:

"Hay-uta is a dog whose teeth have fallen out; he can fight no more; he
is ashamed to go back to his people; the son of a pale face who is
there, when he learns the truth, will point his finger at him and laugh;
Hay-uta cannot go to his lodge; let Deerfoot bury his knife in his
heart!"

"Deerfoot seeks not the life of Hay-uta; had he wished it, he could have
had it long ago; but Deerfoot is a Christian; he will do Hay-uta no
harm."

CHAPTER XXII.

AN ABORIGINAL SERMON.

If Hay-uta the Sauk had been astonished by the action of his youthful
conqueror, he was now more astonished by his words; but the former in a
measure prepared him for the latter, and he saw why it was the
remarkable warrior had refused to take his life when the opportunity had
been his, and when too he knew that he whom he was fighting would show
him no mercy.

Hay-uta, like many of his people, had listened to the words of the
missionaries--those strange people who underwent hunger, thirst, and
suffering that they might preach the Word of Life to those who had never
heard of that wonderful Being that died to save a lost world, and who
taught that forgiveness, kindness, and love were the duty of every one.
Hay-uta, I say, had listened to the words of those people, but only to
turn away with a scornful smile, for he was sure the creed was one to
which the American Indian could never give his faith.

The red man remembered that those priests and missionaries called
themselves Christians, and lo! the most skillful warrior upon whom he
had ever looked, now stood before him and declared that he too was a
Christian. Not only that, but he proved it by his works, for he refused
to tear the reeking scalp from the head of his enemy, when that enemy
was vanquished!

Once more Deerfoot picked the knife of Hay-uta from the ground and
handed it (the point toward himself) to the Sauk. The latter accepted it
and pushed it back in place behind the girdle that spanned his waist.
Then at a signal from Deerfoot he recovered his rifle and tomahawk, as
Deerfoot did his hatchet and bow and quiver. Without a word, the two
walked the short distance to camp, Hay-uta slightly in the lead.

The camp was of the simplest characte