of many voices below the crag betokened how near his pursuers were to
him. Shaking his empty powder-horn with a look of deep grief, the
Indian warrior threw aside his rifle, now more useless than a pole of
equal length, and, a fire of energy beaming from his eye, raised his
tomahawk. It was, however, but for a moment--his wounds were too
severe to allow any hope of a successful struggle, and next moment
the brave stood unarmed, leaning against the entrance of his wigwam.
On came the pursuers, with an eagerness which hatred and the desire
of revenge rendered blind, and, as they leaped headlong down through
the narrow gap between the water and the cliff, the wounded Indian
felt that, with a firm arm and a good supply of powder and lead, he
might have driven back his enemies in confusion. No sooner did the
Sioux behold their former prisoner, Ah-kre-nay, standing with
dignified calmness at the door of his own wigwam, than their
self-possession at once returned, and the whole party surrounded him
in silence, casting, meanwhile, envious but stealthy looks round his
romantic retreat. An aged warrior, after a due period of silence,
advanced and addressed the captive.

'Ah-kre-nay is very nimble; twelve moons ago he ran like a woman from
the Sioux; to-day he ran again, but his feet forsook him.'

'Twelve moons ago,' replied the captive with exultation flashing in
his eyes, 'Ah-kre-nay was in the midst of a nest of vultures--fifty
warriors surrounded him; but the manitou blinded all their eyes, and
the Assineboin cheated their revenge.'

'But Ah-kre-nay was not alone?' said the old warrior, deeply moved at
his own question.