The tree in which our friends sat quivered under the agitated motion of the water, and ever and anon a floating log would strike it with a force that threatened to bear it down. Wild birds wheeled and circled over their heads with a startled shriek, as though trying to add new terror to their already trying situation. Old Tumult ran his eyes along the eastern shore in hopes of seeing some one that he could call to their assistance. But only wave after wave of the great prairie could be seen, rolling away in the distant haze of that autumnal morning. He turned his head and gazed toward the wooded shore. He saw a bird soar upward with a startled shriek from that point in the woods where the water had overflown the bank. A novice in woodcraft would have paid no particular attention to so trivial a fact, but Old Tumult saw at once, that the bird had been frightened by something unusual. In this the old scout was right. The next moment a large canoe, containing half a dozen Arapaho Indians, glided swiftly out from among the timber on the inundated shore, and bore down directly toward our friends. Among the savages, our friends recognized the presence of Dick Sherwood, who, as the canoe glided from among the timber into the main channel of the river, arose to his feet and shouted: “Surrender, Old Tumult and Town. Farnesworth, or by the heavens above you, and the water beneath, you will be riddled with bullets!” CHAPTER VIII. THE BETROTHAL. Although the whites were the common enemy of the Sioux and Arapaho Indians at the time of which I write, a deadly feud existed between the two tribes, growing out of a dispute as to the rightful ownership of a section of territory--abounding with game--since named the Neutral Grounds. The Sioux hunted the Arapaho and the Arapaho hunted the Sioux with the same deadly intent that each hunted the white man. Being equal in point of number, neither tribe would yield its claim, and it is thus that the opening of our story finds them arrayed against each other. It is on the morning following the night of storm that we would lead the reader into a temporary encampment of the Arapaho Indians. The encampment was well located upon a hillside, and surrounded on all sides by the forest. The lodges were arranged in rows or streets facing a small square. In the center of the square stood the council lodge, and that of the prophet. On each side of the prophet’s lodge stood a small one which bore evidence of having been lately placed there. The storm had cleared away and there were few traces of it remaining in the Indian encampment. The sun was shining brightly, and a cool, pleasant breeze was drifting through the forest. The Indians were astir quite early. Something of unusual occurrence prevailed in the encampment. The two small tents by the prophet’s lodge seemed to be the point of attraction.