"Will you race with me, mademoiselle, to yonder tree?"
The quicker we got to Chouteau's Pond the better, I thought, and the faster we left the whippoorwills behind the better also.
"I will race you and beat you," she said gaily; "my little La Bette is fleet of foot. But what shall be the prize?"
"If I win," I said boldly, "the first dance to-day."
I thought a shadow of annoyance passed over her face, but it cleared and she answered slyly:
"And if I win, I claim the first whippoorwill you shoot; the second may go to your aunt."
"Done!" I said grimly. "Are we off?"
It was evident that fleet as La Bette might be, Fatima was far fleeter. But not for worlds would I have left mademoiselle behind; so, while seeming to urge Fatima forward, I was, in reality, giving her the constant little touch that meant a check. Still I was mindful of my prize, and when we were not more than twenty yards from the tree, and I thought we were safe, I gave Fatima the rein and passed the tree a full length ahead.
I felt a little more comfortable now, for I thought if I had really seen a redskin with a gun lurking among the bushes, we must have left him well behind, and we fell into a comfortable little jog-trot, side by side again. Suddenly I heard once more the ominous crackle of a dry twig, and turning quickly, I looked full into a pair of dark eyes peering through the bushes. I hesitated not a moment, but raising my pistol, leveled it straight at the eyes, and would have fired but that a voice called to me in good English:
"Hold, monsieur! Do not fire!"