According to invariable Indian custom, the man who takes a wife takes her seemingly by force; he snatches her up, puts her behind him, darts off, and two days later comes back, slays a mare that has never foaled, and all is over. Numank, of course, would do the same. At night the hut was surrounded by a party of Indians, and Angela carried off, after a feeble resistance. Then some shots were fired, and away sped Numank with his wife surrounded by a powerful Indian escort. This escort was almost wholly composed of strangers with Tubash. The abductors had scarcely departed when Bright-eye came out of the hut and whistled. He was at once surrounded by warriors. "On," he said, in a menacing voice; "there is no time to lose." And they darted away like a whirlwind, riding for some hours in the direction taken by the bridal party. Suddenly they were startled by flashes of light, followed by the report of guns. A terrible combat was going on. With a tremendous war cry the troop led by Bright-eye dashed in the direction of the fight. It was time. Numank-Charake, holding his wife on one arm, was fighting, surrounded by the few warriors faithful to him. Ten only of these could stand, and must have succumbed in five minutes but for the unlooked-for succour. The carnage was fearful. All fought desperately in silence. At last every one of the treacherous escort was dead. Tubash Shah escaped in the confusion. Numank-Charake was more like a corpse than a live man, and had to be carried on a litter. They reached the village next day, from which all the rival tribes had departed, leaving behind a bundle of arrows dipped in blood. It was a formal declaration of war. We turn elsewhere for a time. It was night at the hut of the squatter Lagrenay. Everybody slept except himself. Seated by the dying fire in a cane chair, his head in his two hands, his elbows on the table, the squatter appeared at least to be reading. His huge and savage dog lay at his feet, listening for the faintest sound from without. Every now and then the old man looked at a clock, and then appeared to read again until a sharp whistle was heard. The dog and man leaped up, but suddenly Lagrenay bade the animal be quiet, and went himself to open the door. He started back as two men entered, strangers. "I am Joshua Dickson," said the first, "and this is my brother Samuel. You sent for my son; we have come in his place." The old man professed to be glad to see his neighbours, and bade them be seated. After some time wasted in circumlocution, he began to speak of real business. "You have established yourselves in the Valley of the Moose Deer," he said, "a magnificent settlement." "Well, what then?" "That valley belongs to one of the most powerful tribes on the whole of the Missouri," continued Lagrenay. "No matter. Virgin soil belongs to the first comer."