hrivelled-up antiquity was seated on the
floor on the one side of a small fire. Her son sat on the opposite
side, gazing at her through the smoke, with, for an Indian, an unwonted
look of deep affection.

"The snows of too many winters are on my head to go on journeys now,"
she said, in a feeble, quavering voice. "Is it far that my son wants me
to go?"

"Only one day's ride towards the setting sun, thou dear old one."

Thus tenderly had Christianity, coupled with a naturally affectionate
disposition, taught the prairie chief to address his mother.

"Well, my son, I will go. Wherever Whitewing leads I will follow, for
he is led by Manitou. I would go a long way to meet that good man the
pale-face preacher."

"Then to-morrow at sunrise the old one will be ready, and her son will
come for her."

So saying, the chief rose, and stalked solemnly out of the wigwam.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE SNAKES MAKE A DART AND SECURE THEIR VICTIMS.

While the things described in the last chapter were going on in the
Indian camp, Rushing River was prowling around it, alternately engaged
in observation and meditation, for he was involved in complicated
difficulties.

He had come to that region with a large band of followers for the
express purpose of scalping his great enemy Bounding Bull and all his
kindred, including any visitors who might chance to be with him at the
time. After attacking Tim's Folly, and being driven therefrom by its
owner's ingenious fireworks, as already related, the chief had sent away
his followers to a distance to hunt, having run short of fresh meat. He
retained with himself a dozen of his best warriors, men who could glide
with noiseless facility like snakes, or fight with the noisy ferocity of
fiends. With these he meant to reconnoitre his enemy's camp, and make
arrangements for the final assault when his braves should return with
meat--for savages, not less than other men, are dependent very much on
full stomachs for fighting capacity.

But now a change had come over the spirit of his dream. He had suddenly
fallen in love, and that, too, with one of his enemy's women. His love
did not, however, extend to the rest of her kindred. Firm as was his
resolve to carry off the girl, not less firm was his determination to
scalp her family root and branch.

As we have said, he hesitated to attack the camp for fear that mischief
might befall the girl on whom he had set his heart. Besides, he would