He glanced over his shoulder. Would he reach the water? Ah, never did hunted man strain every nerve and muscle for life as did this one with death before him as the prize. Nearer! The water-hole gleams cool and inviting. A hundred yards--then fifty. The roar and thunder of hoofs is in his ears. It stuns him. Now for the final leap. Then death! Twenty steps more. He poises himself for the final spring. But it is not to be. The coil of a lazo has settled around him; he is jerked from his feet, dragged back a dozen yards--stunned, half senseless. Then, as he wearily opens his eyes, doubtful whether he is dead or alive, he finds himself in the midst of a crowd of Indians, all mounted save the half-dozen who have run forward to secure him. With a sensation of surprise, his glance wanders amid the sea of painted visages--of surprise because many of them are known to him, and were certainly not among the band that effected his capture. And--can he believe his ears?--the chief of the party, a fine martial-looking warrior, is giving instructions that his bonds shall be cut. "Wagh!" ejaculated the latter, with the ghost of a smile. "You have fallen upon rough times, Golden Face." Then the prisoner, once more a free man, looked up at the speaker and knew that he was safe. He recognised Mahto-sapa. And now a great hubbub arose as War Wolf and his party rode up, and angrily demanded their prisoner, emphasising their request by making a dash at the latter. But at a sign from the chief a dozen warriors placed themselves in front of Vipan. Then the debate began to wax very breezy, and small wonder. By every right of immemorial custom and usage, the late prisoner was absolutely their property, and had they not been "choused" out of a rare and exquisitely enjoyable form of sport? Vipan, though too far off to hear all that was being said, caught the name "Tatanka-yotanka" as mentioned pretty frequently, and it seemed to have the effect of a damper on War Wolf. That impulsive savage, having indulged in a good deal of swagger, ended by sullenly accepting the situation. There is not much hard-and-fast law among Indians in a matter of this kind. If the redoubted war-chief of the Minneconjou clan, surrounded by a large armed force, chose to retain half-a-dozen prisoners, War Wolf, who was not, properly speaking, a chief at all, had no redress, save such as he might attain by force of arms. But his following numbered barely thirty warriors, whereas Mahto-sapa was at the head of fully five times that number. Dismounting, the Minneconjou chief gravely sat down upon the ground. Then filling his pipe, and applying a light to the bowl, he handed it to Vipan without a word. In silence the latter received it, and after a few puffs handed it back. "What was said just now about Sitting Bull?" he enquired at length. "This. I have come out to look for you, Golden Face. Sitting Bull is anxious that you should visit him."