"But that cannot be. They were tied fast by their motherhood to the homes wherein they may have perished, even as I am tied here by my adopted ones. The beasts, too, are tied; but they, at least, may have a moment's freedom." So she loosed them, and guided them to the pool where they could drink, and watched them curiously, to see if they would avail themselves of the liberty she had thus offered. But they did not. They quaffed the clear water, then tossed their velvet nostrils about its depths till it was soiled and worthless; yet they turned of their own accord away from the wind-swept prairie into the shelter of the trees, and grouped themselves beneath one, as if uniting against some common, unseen enemy. "They are wiser than their masters," said Wahneenah, patting her Chestnut's beautiful neck; and seeing a deeper glade, where they might spend the night even more safely, she led them thither and fastened them again. Under ordinary circumstances she would have left them untethered; but she knew not then at what moment she might again need them, as they had been needed earlier in the day. When the darkness fell, Wahneenah put aside the brushwood door which she had placed before the entrance to the cave, and sat down upon the withering branch to watch and wait. The children were both asleep, and she knew that if the Black Partridge were still alive and able he would seek her there, as he had promised on that day in the past when they had discussed the possibility of what had really now occurred. She was not to be disappointed. While she sat, contrasting the happiness that had been hers on just the night before with the uncertainty of this, there sounded in the sloping tunnel the tread of a moccasined foot. Also, she could hear the crowding of a stalwart figure against its sides, and there was something in both sounds which told her who was coming. "My brother is late." "It is better thus, it may be, than not at all." "The voice of the Black Partridge is sorrowful." "The heart of the chief is broken within him." For a space after that neither spoke. Then Wahneenah rose and set a candle in a niche of the wall and lighted it. By its flame she could see to move about and she presently had brought some food in a dish and placed a gourd of water by the chief's side. The water he drank eagerly and held the cup for more; but the food he pushed aside, relapsing into another silence. Finally, Wahneenah spoke. "Has the father of his tribe no message for his sister?" "Over what the ear does not hear, the heart cannot grieve." "That is a truth which contradicts itself." "The warrior of Wahneenah judged well when he chose this cavern for a possible home." "It is needed, then? As the Black Partridge foretold." "It is needed. There is no other." The words were quietly spoken; but there was heart-break in each one. "Our village? The home of all our people? Is it not still safe and a refuge for all unfortunates among the nations?"