Fierce was the contest. The young man attempted to free himself from the grasp of his opponent; now they strove to seize each other by the throat; now his antagonist bore back the chief by making a desperate spring as his feet for a moment touched the ground; but if the older man allowed himself to retreat, it was only for the purpose of wearing out the strength of the younger, which he knew would soon be exhausted. Winnemak now seized one of his antagonist's arms, and with a movement as quick as thought threw him on his back across his own knee; then pressing him down, it appeared to me that he intended to break his spine. A fearful shriek, wrung from him by the agony he was suffering, escaped the lips of the young brave; his eyes closed--the struggle was over. Still Winnemak did not let go his victim, but gazing fiercely down on his countenance until all appearance of life had ceased, he hurled the body to the ground. As he did so he exclaimed, "Stay there! You have betrayed me once; you would have stolen my daughter; you will no longer have the power to follow your evil practices." The combat was over as I reached the place. "Is he dead?" I asked, as I gazed down on the face of the vanquished brave. "He will die," answered Winnemak; "but he still breathes." "But I thought you wished to gain information from him?" I observed, feeling anxious to preserve the life of the poor wretch. "I did; but now I would rather enjoy the pleasure of seeing him die." "That is not the way we Palefaces treat a fallen enemy," I remarked. "You must not be displeased at what I say,--I would ask you to allow me to have him brought into the camp. At all events, for the present he can do no further harm, and he may wish to show his gratitude to those who have preserved his life." "Do as you please," said the chief, after a moment's consideration. I got some water from the lake,--finding a hard place by which I could approach it,--and threw it over the face of the fallen man, who had, I perceived, merely fainted from the excruciating pain he was suffering. He at length opened his eyes, and seemed to recognise me. It _was_ Piomingo. The chief, I noticed, stood by, watching every movement of his late antagonist. I raised Piomingo's head, and was thankful to find that he now began to breathe more freely. "Take care," said the chief. "He intends acting the part of the cunning fox, and will yet make an effort to escape." Piomingo turned his eyes towards the speaker, apparently understanding him. I was still making every effort to restore him, when several of Winnemak's followers came up. "Then you grant my request?" I said, turning to the chief. "I will not refuse you!" he answered; "but he will not thank you for the mercy you wish to show him."