He put the paddle into the canoe, and then lifted her to a seat, where she sat weakly, regarding him with looks of terror and loathing.
Then he tried to make her see that he was doing her a great favor; for he declared again that while all the white men were to be killed, she was to be permitted to live, and would become the squaw of a great chief.
She failed to see the beauty of the picture he tried to draw. She preferred death to that.
A little farther down the stream Crazy Snake ran the canoe ashore, where he tied it, after sinking it.
She had been compelled to get out, and sat on the bank watching him sink and conceal the boat.
“Brown Eyes go on!” he said, coming up to her.
It seemed that her terror could go no further; but apparently it did, when from the bushes just ahead there appeared now another Indian.
Crazy Snake showed surprise, thus evidencing that the appearance of this Indian was unexpected even by him.
The Indian was a Blackfoot, and was a young man, whose head displayed the feathers of a chief. For an Indian, he was decidedly handsome; yet the liberal application of paint and grease to his body made him a disgusting sight to the girl prisoner.
His black eyes opened in wide admiration, as he looked upon her.