“Little Fox wasn’t born to hear Snowbeard’s papers talk,” replied Ahdeek, calmly, and then they went at it again.
For several minutes they struggled, when suddenly, by a wrench, Little Fox secured the medicine-pouch and disengaged himself from his foe. Then, with a yell of triumph, he stepped back for a spring, by which he hoped to make his escape. But Ahdeek disconcerted him by following him up, and suddenly a yell of terror broke from his lips. He was tottering on the verge of the cliff! He tried to regain his equilibrium, and Ahdeek essayed to snatch him from his doom, but he fell backward, and left Ahdeek empty-handed.
“Talking-papers gone!” he shrieked. “No! no! Ahdeek get them again or die!” and as he spoke, he, too, sprung into the darkness, down into the stormy waves of Gitche Gumee!
Landing safely in the deep water, Ahdeek listened, with his feet on a rock near the shore. Suddenly something struck his body, and turning quickly he caught it in his arms. It was Little Fox, who had been, for a short time, stunned by the fall, but who now again grappled with his foe.
But the struggle was brief. The half-breed’s hand closed on the Indian’s throat, and soon Ahdeek heard the death-gurgle.
Then he felt for the medicine-pouch, but it was gone!
He uttered a cry of despair, when something light struck his thigh.
“The pouch!” he shouted, clutching after the object.
His fingers touched the beaded fringe of the bag; but before he could grab again, a wave bore it from him!
* * * * * * *