"But where? and how?" she asked, her voice trembling perceptibly, yet striving to placate him by a seeming willingness to obey. "I have nothing here to cook, nor have I fire." "Indian squaw no talk back!" he retorted angrily. "This way I show white squaw to mind chief!" I heard plainly the brutal blow he struck her, though even as she reeled back she managed to stifle the scream upon her lips, so that it was barely audible. With one bound I was over the barrier of robes and clutching with tingling fingers for the brute. I touched his feathered head-dress at last, and he must have supposed me his helpless victim, for with a grunt of satisfaction he struck once again, the blow meeting my shoulder, where he judged in the dark her face would be. "White squaw mind now--" I had him gripped by the throat before he ended, and we went down together for a death-struggle in the darkness, from which each realized in an instant both could never rise again. My furious grip sobered him, and he made desperate efforts to break free, struggling vainly to utter some cry for rescue. Once I felt him groping at his waist for a knife; but I got first clasp upon its hilt, though I twisted helplessly for some minutes before I could loosen his hold at my wrist so as to strike him with the blade. His teeth closed upon my hand, biting deep into the flesh like a wild-cat, and the sharp sting of it yielded me the desperate strength I needed to wrench my hand free, and with one quick blow the knife I clutched cut deep into his side, so that I could feel the hot blood spurt forth over my hand. I held him in a death grip, for I knew a single cry meant ruin to all our plans, until the last breath sped, and I knew I lay prostrate above a corpse. It had been so swift and fierce a contest that I staggered half-dazed to my feet, peering about me as if expecting another attack. I was steadied somewhat by the sound of a low sob from the darkness. "'Tis well over with, Toinette," I murmured hastily, my voice trembling from the strain that still shook me. "Oh, John! John Wayland! And you are truly unhurt of the struggle?" It was scarcely her voice speaking, so agitated was it. "Have you killed him?" "Yes," I answered, finding my way cautiously toward her, and speaking in whispers. "I had no other choice. It was either his life or yours and mine. Knew you the savage?" "It was Little Sauk," she replied, clinging to me, and growing somewhat calmer from my presence. "Oh, what can we do now?" "There remains but one thing, and that is to accept the chance that Providence has given us. There remains no longer a shadow of excuse for your staying here, even by your own reasoning. You are no longer prisoner to Little Sauk. Your pledge has been dissolved by Fate, and it must be God's will that you go forth with me. What say you, Mademoiselle?" And I crushed her hands in mine.