"Now whatever happens, don't open your head," said Winged Arrow. "Don't say one word to me. If you go out of here without me, you are gone."
The Death Angel never came so close to Guy Preston as he did then. He felt in his hip pocket for the loaded Derringer he had taken pains to keep about him, but remembered that it had fallen out during that wild ride after he was captured, and now nothing remained for him but that letter. He noticed that Winged Arrow did not go any further than the entrance of the lodge. He took his rifle with the air of one who would use it if he found it necessary, and seated himself just inside the flap door and watched everybody that came in or went out. It looked as though Winged Arrow was going to fight to retain possession of him. He listened, but could hear no signs of what had been done with the captives outside. They had been taken away, and Guy told himself that he had seen them for the last time.
It was pretty nearly night when these events happened, and if the hours were long to Guy they must have been doubly so to Winged Arrow, who never changed his position after he seated himself. The Sioux came in and cooked their meals as they wanted them, but nobody offered Guy a morsel. In fact he did not want anything, for he was so completely wrapped up in thoughts of escape. At length the door was raised and a bundle of something was thrust into Winged Arrow's hands. He took it immediately and came over to Guy.
"Put these on," said he, in a hurried whisper. "Be quick."
Just then someone outside set up a rapid beating on the tom-tom, and Guy thought that it was the signal for something of which he did not like to think; but it was a notice that the social dances, which were now in vogue, were about to commence. The fate of the captives had not yet been decided upon.
With nervous haste Guy unfolded the bundle and found an Indian blanket, a pair of leggings, and moccasins. He looked at Winged Arrow and saw that he was standing erect and had enveloped himself in another blanket, so that nothing but his face could be seen. Guy was quick to follow his motions, and when the change had been effected no one could have told which of the two was the Indian and which the white boy. The other Sioux sitting around in the tepee made no remark regarding the change, and, feeling greatly encouraged, Guy walked over to his friend and followed him outside into the darkness.
"Keep still," was what Winged Arrow whispered to him. "Do just as I do."
The tepees were all deserted by the Indians, their owners having gone to the further end of the village to engage in the dance, and no one saw them as they passed. A little further on and somebody with a horse loomed through the darkness. He kept on ahead of them, not a word was exchanged between the two, and it was evident that he was in the plot, if that was what Winged Arrow's movement proved to be. For two hours they walked, and then the prairie came into view. Then the horseman stopped and Winged Arrow and Guy went up beside him.
"There, sir, you are free," said the young Indian. "Don't stop to talk, but get on and do your best. Don't you be caught again."
It did not seem to Guy Preston that he could leave his friend without making some acknowledgment. He did not "stop to talk," but he thrust out his hand which Winged Arrow took and shook warmly.