t him save the lad," said Silver Tassel,
standing on the brink.

Instantly William Rufus Holly was on his feet. His coat was off before
Silver Tassel's words were out of his mouth, and, crying, "In the name of
the Great White Chief!" he jumped into the rushing current. "In the name
of your Manitou, come on, Silver Tassel!" he called up from the water, and
struck out for the lad.

Not pausing an instant, Silver Tassel sprang into the flood, into the
whirling eddies and dangerous current below the first rapids and above the
second.

II

Then came the struggle for Wingo of the Cree tribe, a waif among the
Athabascas, whose father had been slain as they travelled, by a wandering
tribe of Blackfeet. Never was there a braver rivalry, although the odds
were with the Indian--in lightness, in brutal strength. With the
mikonaree, however, were skill, and that sort of strength which the world
calls "moral," the strength of a good and desperate purpose. Oshondonto
knew that on the issue of this shameless business--this cruel sport of
Silver Tassel--would depend his future on the Peace River. As he shot
forward with strong strokes in the whirling torrent after the helpless
lad, who, only able to keep himself afloat, was being swept down toward
the rapids below, he glanced up to the bank along which the Athabascas
were running. He saw the garish colors of their dresses; he saw the
ignorant medicine-man, with his mysterious bag, making incantations, he
saw the _tepee_ of the chief, with its barbarous pennant above; he saw the
idle, naked children tearing at the entrails of a calf; and he realized
that this was a deadly tournament between civilization and barbarism.

Silver Tassel was gaining on him; they were both overhauling the boy; it
was now to see which should reach Wingo first, which should take him to
shore. That is, if both were not carried under before they reached him;
that is, if, having reached him, they and he would ever get to shore; for,
lower down, before it reached the rapids, the current ran horribly smooth
and strong, and here and there were jagged rocks just beneath the
surface.

Still Silver Tassel gained on him, as they both gained on the boy.
Oshondonto swam strong and hard, but he swam with his eyes on the struggle
for the shore also; he was not putting forth his utmost strength, for he
knew it would be bitterly needed, perhaps to save his own life by a last
effort.

Silver Tassel passed him when they