"No," replied Will, carelessly, "I don't. Neither am I disturbed about it. You say that I shall never see my own people, but that is more than you or I or anyone else can possibly know." A flicker of admiration appeared in the eyes of Heraka, but his voice was even and cold as he said: "It is well that you have a light heart, because to-morrow will be as to-day to you, and the next day will be the same, and the next and many more." The Sioux chief spoke the truth. They rode on for days, Will blindfolded in the day, his eyes free at night. He thought of himself as the Man in the Deerskin Mask, but much of the apprehension that must overtake the boldest at such a moment began to disappear, being replaced by an intense curiosity, all the greater because everything was shut from his eyes save in the dusk. But he knew they were in high mountains, because the cold was great, and now and then he felt flurries of snow on his face, and at night he saw the loom of lofty peaks. But they did not treat him unkindly. Old Inmutanka threw a heavy fur robe over his shoulders, and when they camped they always built big fires, before which he slept, wrapped in blankets like the others. Heraka said but little. Will heard him now and then giving a brief order to the warriors, but he scarcely ever spoke to the lad directly. Once in their mountain camp when the night was clear Will saw a vast panorama of ridges and peaks white with snow, and he realized with a sudden and overwhelming sinking of the heart that he was in very truth and fact lost to his world, and as the Sioux chief had threatened, he might never again look upon a white face save his own. It was a terrifying thought. Sometimes when he awoke in the night the cold chill that he felt was not from the air. His arms were always bound when he lay down between the blankets and, once or twice, he tried to pull them free, but he knew while he was making it that the effort was vain and, even were it successful and the thongs were loosened, he could not escape. At the end of about a week they descended rapidly. The air grew warmer, the snow flurries no longer struck him in the face and the odors of forest, heavy and green, came to his nostrils. One morning they did not put the bandage upon his face and he looked forth upon a wild world of hills and woods and knew it not, nor did he know what barrier of time and space shut him from his own people. CHAPTER XII THE CAPTIVE'S RISE Will did not know just how long they had been traveling, having lost count of the days, but he knew they had come an immense distance, perhaps a thousand miles, maybe more, because the hardy Indian ponies always went at a good pace, and he felt that the distance between him and every white settlement must be vast.