Then he pressed the Pawnee still harder, and began to nerve himself for the last desperate effort.
By a skillful blow he severed the string by which the knife of the chief was attached to his wrist, and another lightning-like stroke sent the Indian's knife whirling a rod away.
"Now, red-skin, if you hain't satisfied, go and pick up your knife and I'll do it again."
"The pale-face can take the scalp of White Wolf, for he has won it!" replied the chief.
"I don't want yer scalp, ye durned fool, but I guess, seein' it's you, I'll cut it off close to yer head; then, while you're raisin' another one, you can think of the lickin' I've g'in ye."
"White Wolf will not accept life from a pale-face dog!" exclaimed the chief.
Again the sledge-hammer fist of Jehiel came in contact with the head of the Pawnee, and again the chief found himself flat on his back.
"Waal, now, didn't I tell you so?" said Jehiel. "I don't take dog from no man, let alone a durned Injun."
Then Jehiel shaved the braided scalp-lock of the Pawnee chief close to his head, after which he returned, and donning his garments, mounted his horse and was ready for the next thing that might turn up.
White Wolf was not slow in following his example, and then withdrew with his warriors, without saying a word to any one.