A stealthy form wormed itself quickly through the opening of the _teepe_. Vipan, who slept with one eye open, never moved, but his hand tightened on the stock of the pistol in his breast. Only for a moment, though; for he recognised the hideous lineaments and beady eyes of the Shoshone slave girl. "Rise quickly, Golden Face," whispered the latter. "The Sun Queen sends for you. Come at once." Prepared for any emergency, he obeyed without a word. It was already dusk, and at the other end of the village were signs of a gathering of some sort which was about to take place. Unobserved, he entered Isabel D'Arcy's tent. Enjoining caution by a sign, she beckoned him to a seat. The firelight glinted on her shining hair, and he noticed that her still handsome face was clouded with anxiety. The _teepe_ was furnished in quasi-civilised style. There was a camp bedstead instead of the Indian wicker basket, a table, two trunks, and even a few books. "I have just learned something," she began, "that renders it necessary for you to make the attempt at once. Listen. Time is short, and we must lose none of it. There is to be a big scalp-dance to-night in the Ogallalla camp. Hark! They are beginning now. Afterwards you are to be seized and put to the torture. I know the plot--never mind how. Nothing can save you. The Ogallallas have fourteen hundred warriors in the village, and are all-powerful. The whole of our band, except about fifty, are away with Mahto-sapa, and even he could hardly protect you if he were here. Mountain Cat, War Wolf, Long Bull, and a dozen others are all in the plot. Now, quick--quick, I say!" stamping her foot. "Obey me or you are lost. Take as much as you can carry of this," handing him a _parfleche_ half full of dried meat. "And this is the only weapon I can find." With a thrill of satisfaction he found himself in possession of a large navy revolver, loaded in every chamber. "But," he objected, "if I get clear will they not visit it upon you?" "No. They dare not. Quick. You have only an hour's start, with the best of luck. You may not have ten minutes. Roll your blanket round your chin, so as to hide your beard, and put on this." She handed him an Indian head-dress of beadwork and cloth, from whose summit rose a tall eagle-feather. Fixing it on, he stood there transformed into a stalwart savage. "Now, my plan is simple--in fact, ridiculous. You must personate an Indian larking with my slave girl here. She will pretend to run away, and you must pursue her. She will lead you to the nearest herd of ponies; you must catch one and trust to luck. Now, good-bye. God speed you!" He thought he detected a quaver in her voice as she grasped his hands, and would have lingered. She stamped her foot angrily. "Go, go! You are endangering both of us, and the plan will fall through." And she almost pushed him from the lodge.