ouch to the Blackfoot chief, who, losing the small
remnant of his self-confidence, literally "sloped" into the long grass,
and vanished, leaving his men to still further divide themselves, which
they did effectually by scattering right and left like small-shot from a
blunderbuss.

Great was the terror of the poor captives while this brief but decisive
action lasted, for although they knew that the assailants were their
friends, they could not be certain of the issue of the combat.
Naturally, they crowded round their only male friend, the missionary.

"Do not fear," he said, in attempting to calm them; "the good Manitou
has sent deliverance. We will trust in Him."

The dispersion of their foes and the arrival of friends almost
immediately followed these words. But the friends who arrived were few
in number at first, for Whitewing had given strict orders as to the
treatment of the enemy. In compliance therewith, his men chased them
about the prairie in a state of gasping terror; but no weapon was used,
and not a man was killed, though they were scattered beyond the
possibility of reunion for at least some days to come.

Before that eventful night was over the victors were far from the scene
of victory on their way home.

"It's not a bad style o' fightin'," remarked Little Tim to his friend as
they rode away; "lots o' fun and fuss without much damage. Pity we
can't do all our fightin' in that fashion."

"Waugh!" exclaimed Whitewing; but as he never explained what he meant by
"waugh," we must leave it to conjecture. It is probable, however, that
he meant assent, for he turned aside in passing to set free the
Blackfoot who had been bound to a tree. That red man, having expected
death, went off with a lively feeling of surprise, and at top speed, his
pace being slightly accelerated by a shot--wide of the mark and at long
range--from Little Tim.

Three weeks after these events a number of Indians were baptised by our
missionary. Among them were the young chief Whitewing and Lightheart,
and these two were immediately afterwards united in marriage. Next day
the trapper, with much awkwardness and hesitation, requested the
missionary to unite him and Brighteyes. The request was complied with,
and thenceforward the white man and the red became more inseparable than
ever. They hunted and dwelt together--to the ineffable joy of
Whitewing's wrinkled old mother, whose youth seemed absolutely to revive
under the influe