l and shining from a sky in which were a
number of drifting clouds. He was only a step or two from the woods,
which it would seem offered a temptation too great to be resisted.

Doubtless some such thought entered his mind, but the Shawanoe never
turned his face, and maintained such unremitting watch, that the captive
must have felt he was shut in on every side.

Deerfoot had laid aside his bow and rifle and grasped his tomahawk--that
weapon which in his hands was as unerring for a short distance as was
the arrow from his bow. On the first motion of his captive toward
flight, no matter how quickly made, the tomahawk would split the skull
as if it were a rotten apple.

The Pawnee made no such attempt. He remained with his fine figure drawn
to its full height. The weight of his body supported mainly on his right
foot, while the left rested lightly a few inches in front, the posture
similar to that which a trained athlete would assume when about to leap
over a slight obstruction.

His arms were folded across his chest, his shoulders thrown back, while
his eyes were fixed on the face of his captor a short distance away.
Once or twice they flitted to the gloomy woods on his left, as though a
faint hope fluttered in his heart that his friends would rush to his
relief; but he knew that if such a thing were possible, it would have
been done long before. Night and darkness had shut out all help from
them.

The words between Deerfoot and Hay-uta were few, for the arrangements
were so simple that many were not required. Hay-uta stepped back, and
Deerfoot gathered himself like a marksman about to fire at a target.

The slightest incident did not escape the Pawnee. He saw that his last
minute was at hand. Without changing his posture or unfolding his arms,
he leaned forward and bowed his head, so that the crown was presented to
his master, and his eyes, had they been open, would have looked directly
on the ground. But they were closed, and his attitude was that of the
devout worshipers in the congregation who, having risen to their feet
and joined in the singing, bow their heads while the minister pronounces
his benison.

The feet of Deerfoot were placed similarly to those of his victim, and
his tomahawk was held idly in his left hand, the blade pressing the side
of his knee. When necessary it would be raised over and back of his
shoulder like a flash of light, and sent crashing into the brain of his
victim.

The stillness