A moaning sound swept over the assembly, and every eye was fixed on the young man. "Ahee! Ahee!" the women wailed, in astonishment and fear; two or three began a low, sad chant, and death seemed to stretch a black wing over the council. By his weapons, by his war-paint, by his bared head decked with eagle-plumes, and by the haughty lift of his face, Cut Finger proclaimed louder than words: "I am the man who killed the herder." Standing so, he began to sing a stern song: "I alone killed him--the white man. He was a thief and I killed him. No one helped me; I alone fired the shot. He will drive his sheep no more on Tetong lands. This dog of a herder. He lies there in the short grass. It was I, Cut Finger, who did it." As his chant died away he turned: "I go to the hills to fight and die like a man." And before the old men could stay him he had vanished among the young horsemen of the outer circle, and a moment later the loud drumming of his pony's hoofs could be heard as he rode away. * * * * * Curtis was sitting alone in the library when a tap at his window announced the presence of Grayman. Following a gesture, the chieftain came in, and, with a look on his face which expressed high resolution and keen sorrow, he said: "The man who killed the herder is found. He has proclaimed himself at our council, and he has ridden away into the hills." "Who was he?" "Cut Finger." "Ah! So? Well, you have done your duty. I will not ask you to arrest him. Crow will do that. I hope"--he hesitated--"I hope your son was not with him?" "'I alone did it,' he says. My son is innocent." "I am very glad," replied Curtis, looking into the old man's tremulous face. "Go home and sleep in peace." With a clasp of the hand Grayman said good-night and vanished. There was nothing to be done till morning, and Curtis knew the habits of the Indians too well to be anxious about the criminal. Calling his faithful Crane's Voice, he said: "Crane, will you go to Pinon City?" Crane's Voice straightened. "To-night?" "Yes, to-night." "If you will let me wear a blue coat I will go." Curtis smiled. "You are a brave boy. I will give you a coat. That will protect you if you are caught by the white men. Saddle your pony." With a smile he turned on his heel and went out as cheerfully as though he were going on an errand to the issue-house. In his letter to the sheriff Curtis said: "I have found the murderer. He is a half-crazy boy called Cut Finger. Make out a warrant for him and I will deliver him to you. You will need no deputies. No one but yourself will be permitted to cross the line for the present." After Crane had galloped off, Curtis laid down his pen and sat for a long time recalling the events of the evening. He remembered that Lawson and Elsie went away together, and a pang of jealous pain took hold upon him. "I never had the privilege of taking her arm," he thought, unreasonably. XXVII