d defending the women? They
snorted in rage.

As they jostled, stretching this way and that, the arm began slowly to
brandish the bow, and in a manner to announce that the holder desired
single combat.

Standing Buffalo went forward in a bound. "I clear the way," he cried
vauntingly to his brothers; to the one before, "Who fears? Come out." He
loosened the arrows in his quiver.

The challenger came--a stooping figure in squaw's dress.

The sight of him fairly rooted the young chief. "The Squaw!" His voice
was furious.

Behind, a great laugh went up. And, as though there was no longer a need
either to respect or fear the signals of the one who barred their path,
the whole band charged.

A little to one side of The Squaw, a gun spoke--right into their midst.
A brave screamed, catching at his thigh. The others wavered and fell
back beyond rifle reach, taking him with them.

The stooping figure in squaw's dress signed once more for single combat.

Lame Foot addressed his brothers. "We delay too long," he cautioned.
"Standing Buffalo, go forward and slay the she-skunk, and let us
hasten."

Standing Buffalo waved his bow aloft. "I do so," he promised. "But you,
Medicine-Giver, must hold me clean of shame for fighting a squaw!" Then,
to the outcast, "Come out, coffee-cooler, and die." He halved the
distance between him and the Throat.

Squaw Charley approached him watchfully, setting a shaft in place. His
face seemed all eyes--eyes burning with a fierce joy. Standing Buffalo
fitted an arrow. Both raised their bows.

Behind the chief came calls of derision and execration. Behind the
outcast came a voice, clear and steady: "Careful, Charley, _careful_."

To and fro, the contestants were stealing, noiselessly, on the alert,
each striving to get the other in a favourable light.

A minute, another--then Standing Buffalo bent his knees, drew and shot.
But the arrow veered a trifle from its intended course.

The Squaw drew. The cord sang. The shaft whistled to its mark.

It drove the chief backward a few paces like a wounded buck. Then,
stopping himself with effort, he lurched forward again. As he came, he
raised his bow and sent a second arrow that cut the bushes on the canyon
side.

The shaft was his last. His face went suddenly livid, his eyeballs
started; drivelling, he clutched at the air--tipped down to his
hands--touched--let go his weapon--half-rose--pivoted on a heel, and
slipped in a heap to the stones.