llage, Pike wheeled and raised his hand.

"Halt!" he shouted. "Stand ready to repel attack according to orders.
Baroney, Sparks, follow!"

Wheeling again, he galloped straight at the yelling mob of savages,
followed closely by Baroney and Sparks. The Pawnees trained their guns
upon him and levelled their lances. Without checking the pace of his
horse, he held out his bare palm to them. They opened their ranks to let
pass the three mad white men, and closed quickly in their rear. But Pike
and his two followers galloped on without check until they came to the
lodge of White Wolf.

We now perceived that the head chief was standing before the entrance of
the lodge, wrapped about in his buffalo robe; but whether or not he held
his weapons concealed beneath the cloak we could not tell. He waved back
with a grand gesture the warriors who would have crowded around, and
stood like a statue while Pike, sitting his horse no less calm and
impassive, addressed him with the aid of Baroney.

The savages, yet more astonished than ourselves at this strange parley,
for the most part turned to stare at the mad white chief who had so
dauntlessly ridden into their very midst. We had looked to see them
instantly fling themselves upon our three lone comrades and massacre
them before our eyes. In anticipation of the murder, more than one
among us picked his man for reprisals, Wilkinson singling out
Pitaleshar, the war chief, while I drew a bead on White Wolf. Iskatappe
was not to be seen.

The very air seemed to tingle with that feeling which thrills a man's
nerves and sends the blood leaping through his veins when lives hang by
a thread. More than one of the younger warriors, infuriated at the delay
in the attack, bent their bows. Had a single arrow been shot at us
another instant would have seen us in the midst of a bloody battle. All
hung upon the will of White Wolf. He had only to make a sign, and my
ball would pierce his brain, Pike and his companions would be stabbed
and mutilated, and we ourselves rushed by a furious mob of bloodthirsty
savages.

Fortunately for all alike, White Wolf had arrived at years of wisdom. As
they watched his impassive face, the warriors gradually stilled their
ferocious yells and gestures. Within two minutes all was so quiet that
we could hear the quick, guttural syllables of Baroney's translations.

"It is over!" said Wilkinson, as White Wolf suddenly made a gesture of
assent. We saw Pike turn to Spar