"I have been on my last war-path," said the grim old warrior, when he
found that the real owner of the animal had come to claim his
property; "shall a Pawnee carry the white hairs of a Sioux into his
village, to be a scorn to his women and children?"
The other grasped his hand, answering to the appeal with the stern
look of inflexible resolution. With this silent pledge, he assisted
the wounded man to mount. So soon as he had led the horse to the
margin of the cover, he threw himself also on its back, and securing
his companion to his belt, he issued on the open plain, trusting
entirely to the well-known speed of the beast for their mutual safety.
The Pawnees were not long in catching a view of these new objects, and
several turned their steeds to pursue. The race continued for a mile
without a murmur from the sufferer, though in addition to the agony of
his body, he had the pain of seeing his enemies approach at every leap
of their horses.
"Stop," he said, raising a feeble arm to check the speed of his
companion; "the Eagle of my tribe must spread his wings wider.
Pages:
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740