as did the ease with which he dodged the
weapon. The flirt of his head was like that of the loon which dives
below the path of the bullet after it sees the flash of the gun. The
tomahawk struck the ground, went end over end, flinging the dirt and
leaves about, and after ricocheting a couple of times, whirled against
the trunk of a small sapling and stopped.

The act placed the two on the same footing. Each held only his
hunting-knife. The treachery of the Sauk took place without a word being
spoken either by himself or his foe. It was unnecessary, for there could
be nothing to say.

Having avoided the tomahawk, Deerfoot advanced upon Hay-uta with his
knife grasped in his left hand, while the Sauk did precisely the same
thing as regarded him.

They were stripped for the fight, and were in deadly earnest. The Sauk
had learned of the panther-like agility of the Shawanoe, and he knew no
light task was before him. It would not be child's play to wrench the
scalp-lock from the crown of the handsome warrior who was not afraid of
any man, but Hay-uta was warranted in feeling a strong confidence in his
own strength and prowess.

The warriors approached each other with the watchfulness of a couple of
gladiators, seeking each others' lives for the sake of giving amusement
to a Roman populace. Both slightly crouched, with their heads bent
forward, their eyes fixed, while they stepped softly about, seeking an
opening into which the keenly-pointed hunting knife might be driven with
a furious vigor, that would render a second blow useless.

The situation was one where the slightest forgetfulness or mishap would
prove fatal to him who made it. Both realized the fact, and did their
utmost to guard against it.

When a couple of yards separated the combatants, they approached no
closer, but began slowly circling around each other in the same stealthy
fashion. The action of the Sauk convinced Deerfoot that his enemy had no
friends in that section, for, if any were within call, he would have
summoned them before the quarrel had gone so far. He could have called
any one to his help by signal, and neglect to do so was proof that there
was none to summon. Had Hay-uta done anything of the kind, Deerfoot
would have leaped upon him and ended the battle in a twinkling.

Partly around, and then back again, the two seemed to oscillate, their
motions corresponding so closely that it was as if both were moved by
the same delicate machinery bet