"Let our Chief decide," said the first speaker. "It is best that Bent
Horn should settle the question."
"Ugh! Ugh!" grunted the others, not quite pleased at the idea.
However, they said nothing more, and turned away, moving softly with
their moccasined feet to the place where their horses were restlessly
waiting to go on with the journey.
Swift Fawn's captor now seized her hand, saying gruffly, "Get up."
Dragging her to his horse's side, he lifted her up, bound her to the
animal's back, leaped up after her and a moment afterwards the whole
party were galloping faster and faster into the night.
Hour after hour they traveled with never a stop. At last, by the light
of the stars. Swift Fawn knew that she was nearing a large camp, made
up of many tent-homes.
BEFORE THE CHIEF
As the party entered the camp the dogs came
out to meet them, barking in delight at
their masters' return. Swift Fawn's captor rode
up with her to the largest of the tents, or tepees
as the Dahcotas called them. Springing from
his horse, he unbound the little girl, and again
seizing her hand, drew the scared child into the
lodge.
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