The whites stretched themselves upon their bear-skins, but scarcely closed their eyes that night. The guards kept watch on each side of the captive; motionless, but sleepless. On the following morning, the horses were saddled in front of the lodge, and the party having armed themselves, prepared to mount. The chief led out the captive, and forcing back the angry crowd, he placed her upon a horse, between two of the whites; at the same time cautioning them to lose no time in leaving the village. They accordingly attempted to push forward; but the crowd hemmed them in so closely, that it was with difficulty they prevented their horses from trampling them down. This throng continued to press round them, until they reached the lodge of the Soldier Chief. As they passed it, a bow twanged from within, and an arrow whizzing through the air, was buried up to the feather in the side of the Shian captive. With a loud scream, she tossed her arms in the air, and fell forward upon the neck of the horse. At the same moment, a loud roar rose from the multitude; and two Indians seizing the bridle, jerked the horse onwards. The crowd opened to let them pass; but before the whites could follow, it had again closed. At that moment, the Agent heard a loud whoop behind him, and turning, beheld the Black Chief, and the Soldier, grappled in a desperate conflict, while the followers of each, stood by, watching the result. They were both unarmed, and the issue was to depend upon their bodily strength alone. They were well matched, but the Black Chief had the advantage, for he had a deadly gripe upon the throat of his opponent. The Agent knew, however, that whichever might be victorious, the conflict would terminate fatally to himself. He therefore sprang from his horse, and succeeded with the aid of several chiefs, in dragging them apart, and put an end to the contest. He then turned to look for the captive. She had been borne off by the crowd, who were rushing over the prairie with deafening yells. Still determined if possible to save her, he sprang upon his horse and galloped after them. But he was too late. They had torn the wretched being to pieces, smeared themselves with her gore, and were whirling her head and quivering limbs in the air. From that time, there had been a settled hatred, between the Black Chief and the Soldier. They spoke not; they entered not the lodges of each other, and acted no more in concert than if they had been two leaders of separate villages. CHAPTER XII. _Exploit of the Black Chief.—Alarm in the Village._