between the lodges and the water. The
topmost branches of the trees swayed back and forward in the wind,
alternately throwing shafts of moonlight and shadows across the opening
of Miriam's wigwam. When the light flooded the tent a solitary,
white-faced form appeared in dark, sharp outline. The bare arms were
tied at the wrists, and beat aimlessly through the darkness. And there
was a sound of piteous weeping.

Should I make the final, desperate dash now? "Don't bungle His plans,"
came the priest's warning; and I waited. The squaws were very near; and
the angular figure of Diable's wife hung on the rear of the group. She
was scolding like a termagant in the Sioux tongue, ordering the other
women to the fray; but still she kept back, looking over her shoulder
suspiciously at Miriam's tent, uncertain whether to go or stay. We had
failed in every other attempt to rescue Miriam. If the Lord--as the
priest believed--had planned the sufferer's aid, His instruments had
blundered badly. There must be no more feeble-fingering.

"Thieves! Thieves! Cut-throats!" bawled Father Holland in a storm of
abuse. "Ye rascals," he thundered, cutting the air with his stick and
purposely backing away from the camp to draw the Indians off. Then his
voice was lost in a chorus of shrill screams.

The moonlight shone across the wigwam opening. The captive had heard the
English tongue, and was listening. But the Sioux squaw had also heard
and recognized the voice of a former prisoner. She ran forward a pace,
then hesitated, looking back doubtfully. As she turned her head, out
from the gloom of the thicket with the leap of a lynx, lithe and swift,
sprang the crouching form of Louis Laplante. I felt Little Fellow all in
a tremor by my side; the tremor not of fear, but of the couchant
panther; and he uttered the most vicious snarl I have ever heard from
human throat. Louis alighted neatly and noiselessly, directly behind the
Sioux woman. She must have felt his presence, for she turned round and
round expectantly. Louis, silent and elusive as a shadow, circled about
her, tripping from side to side as she turned her head. But the fire
betrayed him. She had wheeled towards the forest as if spying for the
unseen presence among the foliage, and Louis deftly dodged behind. The
move put him between the fire and his antagonist, and the full profile
of his queer, bending figure was shadowed clear past the woman. She
turned like some vengeful, malign goddess