Fire-face could not refuse the charm. The Indians pressed it upon him, and then informed the soldiers that they were going out with the intention of hunting, as Fire-face thought, that on this occasion he might be followed and taken. The party went on their route, stopping occasionally to drink and to smoke. Fire-face, overcome by the liquor he had drank, could hardly keep up with them. His gun swung carelessly from his shoulder, and his usual gravity was changed for a loud and boisterous cheerfulness. "The white people fear me," he said, laughing; "well they may, for my arm is strong, and before I die I will kill another of them. I have already murdered a white man, and should be satisfied if one of their women died by my tomahawk. I should like to take her scalp with the long light hair hanging from it." The Indians still encouraged him to drink, and as the morning advanced he became the more unfitted to pursue his way. From a state of passion and excitement he had passed into one of stupor: at length he rested himself against a tree, and alternately muttered and dozed. In the mean time soldiers were following him up. Wabashaw gave information of the path Fire-face had taken, and they were soon upon him. He was a prisoner at last, and that consciousness sobered him. His hands were bound. One of the Sioux, indignant at this proceeding, attempted to cut the straps, but was pushed off. After a slight delay, the soldiers returned with him to the garrison. He continually reproached himself with his own unwatchfulness, telling the soldiers that he had always intended killing one of them ere he should be in their power. He mournfully said it was too late now to accomplish his purpose. At about six o'clock in the afternoon he was brought into the Fort. The news of his capture had reached the encampment of Wabashaw on the opposite side of the river, and as he approached the guard at the gate of the Fort, a number of Sioux wore seen watching him. His two wives stood there, and as their husband's figure passed, guarded and bound, they literally lifted up their voices and wept. Fire-face, in the mean time, was turned over to the tender mercies of the guard, and he was soon seated at the grated window of his cell. I had heard a great deal of the man, and thought that one who combined so many terrible traits of character must show it in his countenance: in order to see this singular being, I determined to visit him in his cell. We passed the guard-room and entered his dark and dreary-looking place of confinement. His back was to us, as he was looking through the bars of his window towards his home. Hearing some one approach, he turned to us with an expression of face entirely mild; there was neither passion nor murder portrayed in his features, not even a restlessness in his manner--only a quiet dignity, a calm unconcern.