The Indian, still conscious of what was passing around, and momentarily expecting the scalp–knife upon his forehead, the usual fate of the conquered amongst those of his race, gazed in surprise upon the countenance of the young man, who was now tending him with compassionate anxiety: they could not interchange a word; the Indian feebly raised his hand to his head with an inquiring look, and then pointed to the knife. Reginald shook his head, as if to intimate that he need be under no apprehension of that indignity; and then continued his earnest but ineffectual endeavours to stanch the flowing blood, while the sufferer’s head rested upon his shoulder. During this time not a groan escaped from the lips of the savage warrior: but feeling his end at hand, he gathered his dying energies; and taking from his neck the magnificent collar which he wore, made from the claws of a grisly bear, bound together with skins of snow–white ermine, he gave it to Reginald, making him a sign that he should wear it; then supporting himself in a sitting posture by the end of his bow, which he had caught up from the ground, and with his eye steadily fixed upon the snow–clad peak now visible in the western horizon, the prairie–warrior breathed his last. As soon as Reginald was assured that life was extinct, he stretched the unconscious limbs, closed the eyes, gathered the massive hair over the rigid countenance, and arranged the arms and accoutrements decently beside the fallen chieftain, knowing well that it would not be long before the body was borne off by those of his own tribe. There was neither exultation nor triumph on the young man’s countenance, as he looked from the lifeless form of his late adversary to that of the steed, which lay dead beside him, on which, not many minutes before, he was careering over his native plains in the pride and vigour of manhood; he felt that the strength, the activity, the courage of the savage warrior, were equal to his own; that it had depended upon a single successful thrust whether of the two should be now taking his last uncoffined sleep in the wilderness. Sad thoughts of his waiting mother and sister, musings on the fate of Prairie–bird, stole upon his heart, and he continued gazing almost unconsciously on the body of the Indian, until he was aroused by a shrill blast from the bugle of Baptiste; the signal–blast was “Beware:” and casting his eyes around, he saw that the band of Indians who had been skirmishing with War–Eagle’s party were advancing at full speed to the spot where he stood. His spirit rekindled by this fresh excitement, he caught up his rifle, and vaulting on the back of Nekimi, gave him the rein. The pursuers soon found that their chance of overtaking him was hopeless; and while they gathered round the body of their fallen chief, Reginald rejoined his party, who received him with a shout of triumph that reached the ears of the mourners on the far prairie.