"Get off," he said to her. "The enemy will not kill you. You are too young and pretty. Some one of them will take you, and I will get a big party of our people and rescue you."
"No, no," cried the woman; "let us die here together."
"Why die?" cried the man. "We are yet young, and may live a long time together. If you don't get off, they will soon catch us and kill me, and then they will take you anyhow. Get off, and in only a short time I will get you back."
"No, no," again cried the woman; "I will die here with you."
"Crazy person!" cried the man, and with a quick jerk he threw the woman off.
As he said, the enemy did not kill her. The first one who came up counted coup and took her. The man, now that his horse was lightened, easily ran away from the war party, and got safe to camp.
II
Then there was great mourning. The relatives of the old women who had been killed, cut their hair and cried. The man, too, cut off his hair and mourned. He knew that his wife was not killed, but he felt very badly because he was separated from her. He painted himself black, and walked all through the camp, crying. His wife had many relations, and some of them went to the man and said: "We pity you very much. We mourn, too, for our sister. But come. Take courage. We will go with you, and try to get her back."
"It is good," replied the man. "I feel as if I should die, stopping uselessly here. Let us start soon."
That evening they got ready, and at daylight started out on foot. There were seven of them in all. The husband, five middle-aged men, the woman's relations, and a young man, her own young brother. He was a very pretty boy. His hair was longer than any other person's in camp.