s were dominated even at that moment by his lawless
passion for the Indian agent's wife, and his indecision as to the fate
of his captive was as much due to this preoccupation as to a selfish
consideration of her relations to the result. He hated the prisoner for
his infelicitous and untimely crime, yet he could not make up his mind
to his death. He paced the ground before his lodge in dishonorable
incertitude. The small eyes of the submissive Wachita watched him with
vague solicitude.

Toward morning he was struck by a shameful inspiration. He would creep
unperceived to the victim's side, unloose his bonds, and bid him fly to
the Indian agency. There he was to inform Mrs. Dall that her husband's
safety depended upon his absenting himself for a few days, but that
she was to remain and communicate with Elijah. She would understand
everything, perhaps; at least she would know that the prisoner's release
was to please her, but even if she did not, no harm would be done,
a white man's life would be saved, and his real motive would not be
suspected. He turned with feverish eagerness to the lodge. Wachita had
disappeared--probably to join the other women. It was well; she would
not suspect him.

The tree to which the doomed man was bound was, by custom, selected
nearest the chief's lodge, within its sacred enclosure, with no other
protection than that offered by its reserved seclusion and the outer
semicircle of warriors' tents before it. To escape, the captive would
therefore have to pass beside the chief's lodge to the rear and descend
the hill toward the shore. Elijah would show him the way, and make it
appear as if he had escaped unaided. As he glided into the shadow of
a group of pines, he could dimly discern the outline of the destined
victim, secured against one of the larger trees in a sitting posture,
with his head fallen forward on his breast as if in sleep. But at the
same moment another figure glided out from the shadow and approached the
fatal tree. It was Wachita!

He stopped in amazement. But in another instant a flash of intelligence
made it clear. He remembered her vague uneasiness and solicitude at his
agitation, her sudden disappearance; she had fathomed his perplexity,
as she had once before. Of her own accord she was going to release the
prisoner! The knife to cut his cords glittered in her hand. Brave and
faithful animal!

He held his breath as he drew nearer. But, to his horror, the knife
suddenly