He did so; and felt her placing something upon his finger.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a whisper.
“Giving you a ring.”
“A ring?” in surprise.
“Yes; Tenskwatawa’s talisman—the Sign of the Prophet.”
“Why do you do that?” he inquired in wonder and amazement.
“You may be pursued and recaptured—or may fall into the hands of some roving band of redmen. In either case, the talisman will save your life. Boldly show it and say that Tenskwatawa gave it to you—that you are under his protection, that you have his magic power. The warriors—whoever they may be—will not ask you to prove your assertions. They have been led to believe that the power lies in the ring. And they heard the Prophet say at Wildcat Creek, that he would not again give the trinket into the hands of one who could not use it. It will protect you, Fleet Foot.”
“But how did you obtain it?” he asked in an agitated undertone.
She answered naïvely:
“I went to Tenskwatawa’s lodge, to get the gun and ammunition I have given you. He was sleeping. I slipped the ring from his finger and came away.”