"Lieut. Carey's lariat whizzed through the air, and settled over the shoulders of the chief."
(See page [47])
On came the Sioux chief all unconscious of danger, and, peering fixedly at him, the officer said, with some surprise:
"Ah! it is that desperate young chief who tried so hard to rescue Sitting Bull some days ago, for twice he fired full at me, yet my star of luck hovered over me. Now I will have a chance to get even," and he grasped the lariat more firmly.
On came the Sioux chief, his black and white spotted pony, all unconscious of danger even. Nearer and nearer approached the Sioux chief, until suddenly Lieutenant Carey arose, and his lariat went whizzing through the air with surest aim, settling over the shoulders of the chief, pinning his arms to his side, and, as his pony bounded away, dragging him from his saddle to the ground.
Hardly had the Indian fallen ere Kit Carey was standing over him, his revolver muzzle in his face, while he said sternly in the Sioux tongue:
"You are my prisoner, chief! Make no resistance, and I will not harm you."
But the chief had uttered one loud cry as he felt the noose tighten about him, and Kit Carey felt that it was a call for help to braves who were near, and so was anxious to secure his prisoner, determined to use him as a hostage and foil, if caught in a tight place.
In response to his words the Sioux looked into the face of the officer, and replied:
"The Red Hatchet is the friend of the pale faces, not their foe. He is here to keep his warriors back from the war-trail."