Of those pursued, one was evidently a female, and as she was bound, it was also evident that she was a prisoner.
The Indian in the rear, who was in such hot pursuit of the foremost, was lashing his horse in a perfect fury; and as they passed the tree where the scout was concealed, he said:
"It looks like a long chase, but I don't see any signs of anybody after them. If the squaw was only a white woman I would sail in and help her out of the fix—but then it is none of my business, and I guess I won't meddle. And I reckon they have too much on their hands now to take any notice of me."
Just as he reached his camp he looked after the Indians and saw the horse of the pursuer drop dead from exhaustion, and its rider was thrown violently upon the rocky path.
The Indian lay so very still that the scout thought he must be dead, and he started out to ascertain.
As he approached the fallen Indian, he discovered that he was still conscious, though unable to stand upon his feet.
The Indian was the first to break silence.
"Me know you—you are White Panther!"
"Yes, that is what some folks call me. But who are you, and what is the matter with you?"
"Me Gray Eagle, big chief of the Blackfeet. Heap matter! Leg broke, arm broke! Red Pine, the Sioux, has stolen Snowdrop, the daughter of Gray Eagle, and if I can not get her back, then my heart broke!"