The chief had said nothing to me about Piomingo, and I now felt satisfied that it was the intention of his people to sacrifice him with the rest of the prisoners. I resolved, however, to plead for him, as well as for them, and make special endeavours to save the life of the young squaw. According to the savage Indian custom, she would be barbarously tortured before being put to death. It seems strange that human beings can take a pleasure in thus treating their fellow-creatures; it shows how debased, how diabolically cruel, men can become when they have once gone away from God. At present, however, the braves were too much occupied in recounting their deeds of valour to think of their prisoners, who were left bound, and guarded with lynx-eyed watchfulness by some of the old squaws.
I found that this was only one of the parties of braves, and that another was expected shortly with more prisoners. As far as I could understand, these prisoners were said to be white men; but I concluded that they were some of the Mexican outlaws who had accompanied the Arrapahas on their marauding expedition.
While looking out for them, I saw a solitary figure, rifle in hand, approaching the camp, whom I recognised as Maysotta, accompanied by her dog Keokuk. I hastened to meet her, and told her of my anxiety at the non-appearance of Clarice.
“If they do not come, I will go in search of them,” she said.
She had killed a deer, so she sent off some of her people, under the guidance of Keokuk, to bring it in. Her dog would, she said, lead them to the spot.
Shortly afterwards, the second band, who were expected, made their appearance in the distance, and, as before, the warriors hurried out to meet them.
I was still talking to Maysotta, when I saw her look towards the approaching party, and an expression of astonishment take possession of her countenance.
“What have our braves been doing?” she said. “They have made a prisoner of our friend the young white chief.”
As she spoke, I looked in the same direction, and I too was greatly astonished, and also much alarmed, at seeing Lieutenant Broadstreet, with his arms tied behind him, in the midst of the warriors—his two troopers following, closely guarded.
“What can have happened?” I exclaimed. “What can have become of Clarice and Rachel? My dear sister! some accident must have befallen her.”