“No!” she interrupted sadly, but firmly—a sob in her throat. “It cannot be. To-day I have been instrumental in saving you—I may be able to save others. At least, I can risk my life in trying. I cannot go with you, Ross. Good-by—good-by forever!”
“Kiss me!” he whispered in her ear.
She lifted her face to his. In the darkness their lips met. Each felt the tumultuous beating of the other’s heart. For a half minute he strained her to his breast, ere he released her and softly murmured:
“Good-by, La Violette—and God bless you!”
Then he and his dog were gone—and she was alone. She dropped upon the bare floor and hid her face. But she did not weep. Her grief over her loss, her anxiety for his safety, were too great. A blood-curdling whoop and the patter of moccasined feet, from time to time, came to her ears; but no one entered the cabin. A prey to suspense, she arose at last and went out of doors. Douglas’s enemies were continuing their search. She dimly discerned their dark forms flitting here and there. Aimlessly she sauntered toward the Prophet’s hut. Just as she reached it, a number of warriors were entering the door. She followed them; and heard the leader say to Tenskwatawa, who stood at one end of the room, directly under a flaring torch stuck into the wall:
“Fleet Foot has escaped. He is in hiding about the village. Does Tenskwatawa know aught of him?”
The Prophet expanded his chest, and, raising his right hand, said severely:
“Tenskwatawa is the father of his red children. He does not befriend the palefaces. Begone!”
At that moment, the speaker chanced to glance at his own hand. He saw that his ring was gone. An expression of unspeakable surprise overspread his horrid features. With the whimpering cry of a whipped child, he dropped upon his knees and began to search for the talisman. Not finding it, he silently arose to his feet, an expression of absolute imbecility upon his face. Then appearing to realize the magnitude of the misfortune that had befallen him, he dropped to the floor in a writhing heap, moaning and beating his chest.
“Ugh!” ejaculated the leader of the band. “Tenskwatawa has lost his sign—his power. See! He is weak—he whines like a sick squaw! Ugh!”