He struggled bravely, but, weakened by the life-chase and deprived of his knife, he could do but little.
He heard the footsteps, almost drowned by yells, that approached from the east, and then, ceasing to struggle, his head fell back, and calmly he gazed at the brute whose weight seemed to crush his breast.
“Panther eat Ahdeek,” he cried. “Don’t let Chippewa burn him. They hunt him long—panther catch him, at last!”
With the utterance of the last word, the footsteps grew silent, and the following moment the death-yell of the panther mingled with the roar of the water that spent its fury against the foundation of Chapel Rock.
Ahdeek started at the shot, raised himself to his knees, and felt and looked for his weapons.
In a moment his eyes fell upon his rifle, and, with a yell of triumph, he sprung toward it.
He was determined to die rather than surrender to implacable foes, who had lately drank the blood of peaceful traders, “scooped up in the hollow of joined hands.”
He turned, with clubbed rifle, despite the fearful pain which his wounded shoulder caused, and dared the vengeance of his foes with a shout of defiance.
The shout was greeted with one of like import, and a moment later, the Chippewas had closed around the brave half-breed.
Ahdeek struck with his remaining strength; but the rifle was caught by a young Hercules, and wrenched from his grip.