“Man! man! is there no mercy in your heart, no feeling, no pity?”
A whistle—a signal, apparently—fell upon the ear of the Indian. He seemed greatly disturbed, and without reply, hurried from the wigwam. As he lifted the covering on one side in passing, the form of the White Hawk entered at the other.
“Waupee, White Hawk!” exclaimed Esther, clinging to her. “Save me from this awful fate. Think of my father—think of my friends—of those that love me, those that I love. For the sake of heaven, if I was ever kind to you, save me now.”
The finger of the poor, discarded wife was pressed upon her lips, and bending low she kissed the hem of Esther’s dress but did not speak a word. But her movements were rapid as thought. From the folds of her garments she drew forth a long and slender knife, placed it in the hands of the prisoner, and almost before her purpose could be divined, glided from the wigwam.
“Thanks, at least, for this,” muttered the prisoner under her breath. “When all else fails, I will use your knife, poor Waupee.”
A step approached, and concealing the knife, she stood, white and statue-like, awaiting the next phase of her destiny. It was only a girl of the Dacotahs who brought food. In her desperation, Esther strove to question her; but the girl stood motionless while she spoke, with her eyes bent on the ground, but gave no word of reply.
She placed the rude meal, upon still ruder dishes of birch bark, on a mat in the center of the wigwam, and went out, having performed her task in profound silence. Filled with terrible apprehensions, Esther did not touch the food, but, drawing the knife from her bosom, stood at bay, ready to use it in self-defense, or, failing that, in self-sacrifice.
“Why should I not use it now—before he comes?” she murmured. “It is but a blow, and I am safe. But oh, the dark labyrinth of that unknown valley; my very soul shudders at the thought of threading it unbidden. Better endure the black horrors of my situation a little longer, trusting in a merciful God, than escape by crime.” A touch upon the arm brought her with a wild leap from the ground where she had been sitting. It was Waupee, the wife of Black Eagle.
“The daughter of the pale-face can cease weeping. Black Eagle is listening for the hoofs of his enemies. He sees a great cloud of dust on the prairie, and he has many foes. Eat in peace; he will take the trail and ride toward the setting sun.”
Esther’s strength gave way now. She fell upon her knees, and sobbed out her passionate gratitude, clinging to the poor Indian wife and lavishing kisses on her robe and her hands.