Indolently squatted around the fire, smoking or dozing, the party remained for an hour, when the signal was given, and they began to prepare for the continuation of their journey. The braves were in the worst possible humour, for they disliked the idea of being sent back with a single captive, when they had expected to remain and take part in the work of destruction and bloodshed. The horse Emily had ridden was tied to a sapling near by, and the Indian she had previously displeased, now unfastened and led it to her side. A sullen scowl was upon his features, as he seized the maiden by the arm with a grasp which caused her to cry out with pain. Red Wing, who had been standing near Emily, was upon the point of lighting his pipe at the fire. Hearing the outcry, he turned quickly, and with fierce displeasure upon his features, sprung at once to the scene. With a powerful grasp upon the arm of the offending savage, he hurled him back, and stood like a tower of strength before the affrighted maiden. “Why does Red Wing place his hand thus upon another brave?” demanded the incensed savage, his very utterance almost choked with passion. “Why does the Dark Cloud seek to harm the pale-face maiden?” retorted Red Wing. “Does Red Wing think to take the pale-face to his own lodge, that he is thus careful of her?” was the sarcastic response. “The White Bird speaks kindly to the Red Wing; he will not forget,” was the sententious rejoinder. For a time the two stood looking at each other; then the Dark Cloud stepped to one side and attempted to pass his opponent. But the latter divined his intention, and, grasping him by the throat, hurled him backward with such force that he was almost thrown to the ground. Furious now past all control, Dark Cloud drew his knife, and prepared to rush upon his foe. Red Wing seized his hatchet, and awaited the onset. Others of the party, seeing they were likely to lose at least one of their most chivalrous braves, interposed to stay the conflict. “Why will not the red braves learn wisdom?” demanded the chief of the party, with a voice of authority. “Why will they war upon each other? The blood of the pale-faces only should flow at their hands.” By threats and persuasion a reconciliation was effected. The two braves returned their weapons and moved moodily from the spot, while the journey was at once resumed. On they tramped, mile after mile, through the forest, until at length morning broke over the earth. But the dawn brought no relief to the prisoner. As the light increased, the dusky features of her attendants were brought more fully to view, with all their horror of war-paint and inhuman ferocity. At length the party emerged upon the banks of the Mississippi. The guards, who were loitering about the flotilla, flocked around the fair prisoner with the greatest expressions of curiosity and satisfaction. A huge dug-out, capable of carrying the entire party, was launched, and they set forth across the stream.