The time had come for Black Hoof to try him as a decoy. There remained a good hour of light. Patricia, not understanding, yet fearing the worst, hovered about her father, her eyes wildly staring and her whole appearance denoting a weakening of her reason. As they started to lead her father into the woods she attempted to follow him, and Black Hoof pushed her back. Cousin's sister spoke up, saying: "I will keep her." The warriors disappeared in the direction of the settlement. The two women left the camp on the opposite side. Ward went along with the Indians, and I knew this was my golden opportunity to escape. Before I could make a beginning at freeing my hands a noose fell over my head and clutched at my throat. The guards were taking no chances. Great mental anguish is accompanied by no clarity of thought and graves no connected memories on the mind. I know I suffered, but there are only fragments of recollections covering that black period of waiting. I have a clear picture of the warrior holding the end of the cord calling for some one to bring a gourd of water. I do not remember drinking, but as later I found the front of my shirt soaked I assume the water was for me. Coherent memory resumes with the noise the warriors made in returning to the camp. I shall never forget their appearance as they emerged from the undergrowth. Black Hoof walked ahead. Close behind him came two warriors dragging Dale. I was amazed to behold Patricia in the procession. She was leaning on Lost Sister's arm, and there was a lump on her forehead as though she had been struck most brutally. Then came the warriors and Ward. Dale was roughly thrown to the ground. Several men began trimming the branches from a stout sapling. Others became busy searching the fallen timber for dry wood. Ward walked over to me and kicked me in the side. I must have groaned aloud, for he commanded: "Shut up! I'm ripe for a killing." Matters had gone against his liking. He played with his ax nervously, his baleful gaze darting about the camp. I waited and at last his race heritage compelled him to talk, and he commenced: "The old man was scared into doing what the chief told him to do. He would not at first, and the men were sent to bring the girl along. When he faced her he made a noise like a sheep bleating. Then he ran to the clearing and began his talk. The girl heard his words. She broke away and ran into sight of the cabins and screamed for them not to listen, that it was a trap. Black Hoof struck her with the flat of his ax. Now he swears he'll roast the fool." "She is your prisoner!" I cried. "He says she must burn." "There must be some way, something you can do!" I wildly insisted, my only thought being to spare her the immediate danger. "I want her for my squaw bad enough to get her if I can," he growled. "But if I'm to think of any plan I must be quick. They've got the stake nearly ready."