a Sioux. At this time he
held him only in contempt.

"How, John," said he, with an Irishman's easy insolence, "Lookin' for a
chance to steal somethin'--is it?" And then Kennedy was both amazed and
enraptured at the prompt reply in the fervent English of the far
frontier.

"Go to hell, you pock-marked son-of-a-scut! Where'd _you_ steal your
whiskey?"

For five seconds Kennedy thought he was dreaming. Then, convinced that
he was awake, an Irishman scorned and insulted, he dashed in to the
attack. Both fists shot out from the brawny shoulders; both missed the
agile dodger; then off went the blanket, and with two lean, red, sinewy
arms the Sioux had "locked his foeman round," and the two were straining
and swaying in a magnificent grapple. At arms' length Pat could easily
have had the best of it, for the Indian never boxes; but, in a bear hug
and a wrestle, all chances favored the Sioux. Cursing and straining,
honors even on both for a while, Connaught and wild Wyoming strove for
the mastery. Whiskey is a wonderful starter but a mighty poor stayer of
a fight. Kennedy loosed his grip from time to time to batter wildly with
his clinched fists at such sections of Sioux anatomy as he could reach;
but, at range so close, his blows lacked both swing and steam, and fell
harmless on sinewy back and lean, muscular flanks. Then he tried a
Galway hitch and trip, but his lithe antagonist knew a trick worth ten
of that. Kennedy tried many a time next day to satisfactorily account
for it, but never with success. He found himself speedily on the broad
of his back, gasping for breath with which to keep up his vocal
defiance, staring up into the glaring, vengeful black eyes of his
furious and triumphant foeman. And then in one sudden, awful moment he
realized that the Indian was reaching for his knife. Another instant it
gleamed aloft in the moonlight, and the poor lad shut his eyes against
the swift and deadly blow. Curses changed to one wordless prayer to
heaven for pity and help. He never saw the glittering blade go spinning
through the air. Vaguely, faintly he heard a stern young voice ordering
"Hold there!" then another, a silvery voice, crying something in a
strange tongue, and was conscious that an unseen power had loosed the
fearful grip on his throat; next, that, obedient to that same
power,--one he dare not question,--the Indian was struggling slowly to
his feet, and then for a few seconds Kennedy soared away into cloudland,
k