emainder of the day. Selecting a spot by the
stream, shut in by tall cliffs on either side, they secured their
horses and were preparing to spend the night when the chief hurriedly
motioned them to be silent. He then with noiseless tread ascended the
cliff behind them. Evidently some new danger awaited them, and with
terror they clung to each other for protection from the unknown evil.
In half an hour he returned. "Indians yonder!" said he, briefly,
pointing towards the cliff on the opposite side of the stream.

"Have you seen and do you know them?" asked the trapper, adding,
"Perhaps we are nearer home, and they belong to some friendly tribes?"

"Does she?" asked the chief, turning with a scornful gesture towards
Mahnewe.

The squaw rising from the bank where she had been sitting advanced with
the look of sadness entirely dispelled from her face, which was now
sunny and radiant with joy.

"Mahnewe," said she, speaking earnestly and rapidly, "is the friend of
the white man, and so are her people. Over the hills yonder is their
village and these are their hunting grounds. Let not the white man
fear; he has saved the life of a wife of the chief, and Mahnewe will
answer for his safety."

"Are you sure of what you say?" asked Jane, whose dread of cannibals
was the torture of her life.

"Mahnewe cannot mistake the place of her people," said the squaw,
looking amused at the evident fright of the young girl.

"I mean of what tribe are they,--are you, Mahnewe?"

"The squaw will not tell," said the chief, tauntingly. "She knows they
are the enemies of the Arapahoes. The Snake fears the Eagle."

"Mahnewe is the daughter of a chief, and the wife of a chief. She is
not a coward; red blood is in her veins. She is a Snake, and fears not
the Arapahoe!"

"Come, this will never answer, chief! Leave Mahnewe to me. Now, tell me
truly,--are we on the hunting-grounds of the Snakes, and are you one of
that tribe?"

"Mahnewe has said it, and cannot lie," returned the woman earnestly,
and with great dignity of manner.

"If this is true, we are saved," said the trapper. "I have friends
among that people, and know my way home from their hunting-grounds."

"Are you sure of what you tell us, Mahnewe?" asked Sidney; "for a
mistake on this point might involve us all in destruction."

"Are not yonder the hills where my childhood's years were spent? Who
can forget the home of their kindred, the place of their birth?"

"Sometimes hil