Short time was given her for thought, and she was almost immediately surrounded and overpowered, but not until a brawny warrior had been made to bite the dust at her feet.
She was lifted to the saddle made vacant by her shot, and the young brave who seemed to be the leader took her bridle-rein, and they turned to retrace their way across the prairie.
"Do you speak the language of the pale-faces?" asked the warrior.
"Yes," answered Snowdrop.
"Then tell me who you are, and what tribe you belong to."
"I am called Snowdrop, and my father is Gray Eagle, the great chief of the Blackfeet."
"The White Wolf of the Pawnees has heard of Snowdrop before," he said.
"Are you White Wolf?" she asked.
"So I am called by both red men and white!" he replied.
"I have heard that White Wolf was a brave chief. If it is true, he will not make war on a woman!"