It yielded. Once more he could stretch out his muscular arm. Grasping his sister to his side, covered by the darkness and the thunder, and the heavily commencing rain, they made their way under the edges of the bluffs. The young Chippeway knew the route: a short peace had existed between the tribes, and he had more than once passed through the village. At first their progress was slow and deliberate. There was no faltering, though. They were without weapons, with the exception of We-har-ka's knife. Hunger and faintness were oppressing them, but the danger they were in braced their hearts. As they began to leave the Sioux village in the distance, hope gave vigour to their frames. After the day broke, the clouds were scattering, and the sunbeams were dotting the hills that lay between them and their foes. Still they could not rest. The wild plum was their only nourishment; nor was it until night had again shrouded the earth, and the young man laid his sister in the hospitable lodge of a Chippeway village, that he realized that he had been a prisoner and was again free. It were impossible to describe the rage of the Sioux on ascertaining the escape of their prisoners. Chashé went soon after their flight to his sister's wigwam. His sleep had been restless, he thought of his dead relative, but he thought more of the Chippeway girl, whom he had resolved to adopt[12] in place of his young wife, who had died recently. Seeing his sister alone, he anxiously inquired of her what had become of the girl. What was his surprise when she told him there had been no one there; that when she arose, the storm was passing over, but it was still dark, but that no one had been in the lodge since then. Her brother, much irritated, contradicted her, using the most violent language; yet it was evident to him that his sister was unconscious of his having laid the girl by her side. He turned away, and sought the scene of the last night's torture. There were the burnt fagots, and the ghastly remains. The smoke still curled and slowly rose from the ashes, but neither of the prisoners was to be seen. The thongs with which he had been bound lay on the ground. There was no room for doubt: brother and sister had fled; and they lived so near the borders of the Chippeway country that there was every reason to believe they were beyond the reach of recovery. Disappointment and rage overspread his features. He threw up the door of the lodge where the sentinels still slept calmly. Pushing the foremost over with his foot, "Where is your prisoner?" said he. "You are brave men, that cannot take care of one Chippeway!" Starting to their feet, the sentinels at once became aware of what had occurred. "Where is the girl?" they asked of Chashé. "They are both gone," said he, "and they must both have passed near you." "And where were you when the girl went?" replied one of the sentinels. "You took her off with you, and if we could not keep the man, you could not keep the woman."