“Ugh!” he ejaculated—and was silent.
“You will do as I desire?” she inquired anxiously.
He nodded sullenly.
“Listen, then,” she went on rapidly. “Fleet Foot must be protected to-day; to-night he must leave the village.”
“But Scar Face——” Tenskwatawa began, a look of terror creeping over his repellant features.
“I know what my father would say,” she interrupted. “But I will assume all responsibility. Fleet Foot shall not remain here to be killed. You have nothing to fear from Scar Face. I will shield you from his wrath.”
The Prophet hung his head and made no reply; and the girl left the cabin. As she passed through the doorway and dropped the curtain of skins behind her, the cowardly wretch muttered shiveringly:
“Scar Face will be very angry. But La Violette will have her way—I am helpless.”
Then hiding his face in the folds of his blanket, he groaned aloud.