The knife of the Indian struck upon the hatchet of the white man and was shivered to the hilt. He flung the remnant aside with a curse upon the Manitou, and felt for his tomahawk. In the desperate struggle it had been loosened and fallen to the ground, and he was weaponless. With the cry of an enraged beast he closed with his antagonist, fastened his great teeth in his throat and hung on with the tenacity of a bull-dog. But it was his very last battle—his very last struggle.
Once—twice, the long knife of the white man was driven to his breast and twisted around with devilish malice. Then the set jaws relaxed—the eyes turned in their sockets, and the powerful chief of the Sioux fell backward to the earth, dead, and without a groan.
Smarting from pain—half-strangled—with the marks of teeth in his throat that he would carry to the grave, Parsons was forced to rest and take care of himself before he could even give a thought to the prize he had battled so desperately and nearly fatally for. But he hastened to tear away a portion of his garments, and having stanched the blood, crawled to where she was lying.
She saw him coming and attempted to fly—ran a little distance into the wood and then fell exhausted. Nature had already been too much overtaxed for her to endure more, and unless she could have rest and care, death would certainly follow and that at no great distance.
On gaining possession of Olive, the renegade would have instantly returned and joined his new-made friends the emigrants. But neither the captive nor himself was in a condition to do so and he was forced to remain. Yet scarcely had he fixed a place for a temporary encampment before there appeared before his startled eyes the Indian girl—Little Raven!
"The pale chief has found the squaw with the soft hair and skin like snow," she said, "and is taking her back to the wigwams of the red-man?"
"Yes—yes," he stammered, not daring to deny it.
"He has met a bear in the woods?" she asserted rather than asked.
"Yes," and he willingly enlarged upon the story that would save him from telling the truth.
"The Little Raven will dress his wounds," and having procured soft bark and gum she did so with exceeding skill.