“Lightfoot hears what the great chief says.”
The young Indian looked at the girl, who still stood trembling before them. A sudden admiration of her beauty shone in his black eyes, but it was not observed either by the chief or the girl.
“Lightfoot hears, and will obey,” he repeated.
Crazy Snake returned to the canoe, and seemed to consider raising it and resuming the voyage down the river. But he changed his mind, apparently, and, turning from the river, he hastened away, and was soon lost to view.
Lightfoot stood looking at the girl who had been placed in his charge.
“Come!” he said finally. “We go to the village.”
She was listening to the retreating footsteps of the older chief.
“No, I will not go with you!” she declared.
Admiration showed in his eyes. But he was an Indian, and accustomed to having women obey. He caught her by the wrist and jerked her along.
“Come!” he said. “Brown Eyes is very beautiful. It is too bad that she is to enter the lodge of Crazy Snake, who has a wife already.” He was speaking to himself, for his words were Blackfoot, and she did not understand them. “Brown Eyes is too beautiful to be the squaw of Crazy Snake. She should mate with a younger warrior. Is it meet that winter should marry summer? Brown Eyes is young, and she is beautiful.”