"It is a daughter of the Mandans.
A good prize!"

As he spoke he rose to his feet and Swift Fawn, shaking with fear, knew
that he was beckoning to others to draw near. A moment afterwards she
was surrounded by a party of warriors. They were taller than the men
of her own tribe, and were straight and noble in shape, but their faces
were very stern.

"They must belong to the 'Dahcotas,'" thought the child. "And they are
our enemies."

Many a tale had Swift Fawn heard of the fierce Dahcotas, lovers of war
and greatly to be feared. It was a terrible thought that she was alone
and in their power, with the night coming on.

"Ugh! What shall we do with her?" the brave who had discovered her
said to the others.

"She is fair to look upon," replied one.

"But she is a Mandan," was the quick answer of another. As he spoke he
looked proudly at the scalp lock hanging from his shoulder, for he and
his companions has just been out on the war path.

"Let our Chief decide," said the first speaker. "It is best that Bent
Horn should settle the question."

"Ugh! Ugh!" grunted the others, not quite pleased at the idea.
However, they said nothing more, and turned away, moving softly with
their moccasined feet to the place where their horses were restlessly
waiting to go on with the journey.

Swift Fawn's captor now seized her hand, saying gruffly, "Get up."

Dragging her to his horse's side, he lifted her up, bound her to the
animal's back, leaped up after her and a moment afterwards the whole
party were galloping faster and faster into the night.

Hour after hour they traveled with never a stop. At last, by the light
of the stars. Swift Fawn knew that she was nearing a large camp, made
up of many tent-homes.

BEFORE THE CHIEF

As the party entered the camp the dogs came
out to meet them, barking in delight at
their masters' return. Swift Fawn's captor rode
up with her to the largest of the tents, or tepees
as the Dahcotas called them. Springing from
his horse, he unbound the little girl, and again
seizing her hand, drew the scared child into the
lodge.

A bright fire was blazing in the fireplace, for
the night was cold.

Beside it squatted a noble-looking brave,
wrapped in a bear-skin robe, and with eagles'
feathers waving from the top of his head. Chains
of wampum hung around his neck and his face
was painted in long, bright lines.

Not far from him sat a beautiful and richly-dressed
young gir