"War Hawk, you have wasted time in your pursuit, and you seek what will never, never be yours. There are fair maidens of your own race; woo them and win them—me you never can, by either kind words or by threats. I am protected by the Great Spirit, and neither hope nor fear. Your pursuit may bring you much of evil—to me it can only bring a new experience in life. Do not be deceived. I am, and of reason, a mystery to you, the solution of which it is dangerous for you to attempt."
Perhaps Edith drew herself up rather proudly as she uttered these words, perhaps there was something, too, of scorn mingled with her pride, and unintentionally outcropping in her words and gestures, for War Hawk appeared touched to the quick. He strode a pace forward and raised his hand with a gesture that might indicate either impressiveness or menace. The woman only turned sideways and unflinchingly gazed into his face as he spoke.
"The War Hawk has run many risks for his pale White Bird. He has faced not only the rifles of her friends, but even now he stands against the wishes of his tribe. It is not a light thing for a great chief to choose to bring a pale-face woman into his cabin; but he has seen something of the world, something of the pale-faces, too, and he will accomplish his desires. The White Bird has flown away from her people; they will never see her again. Had they even the courage to follow her, they would not know in which way to turn their steps. The War Hawk will say no more this time; but let her think of what he has said, and perhaps she will yet smile at the coming of the footsteps of the great chief."
"Let not the Blackfoot brave deceive himself. He is not dealing with a helpless squaw of his tribe. I can help myself if forsaken by friends. But I have no fears of that. Their eyes are keen, their limbs are untiring, and they are already on the trail. You may not see them, or hear them; but they will be near you, and when the time comes you will find your White Bird has flitted—if before that the fatal bullet has not stricken you—"
Without then was the sound of a rapidly-approaching horseman. Edith paused in her speech as she heard it, and her savage wooer looked uneasily around him as though he half-feared this hot-haste messenger might be the bearer of unpleasant tidings. The two, listening, heard a distant greeting, the sound of beating hoofs ceased, and then the newcomer, an Indian, inquired for War Hawk. The chief, on hearing this, made an obeisance and left the cabin as quietly as he had entered it.
Edith Van Payne remained alone. With feminine curiosity she listened to see if she could not learn what this messenger had to communicate. She only heard voices speaking in a low and smothered tone, but soon the conversation became more earnest. Then she sought to gain a view of the speakers. Circumstances favored her. When she cast her glance upon them, she saw that preparations for a move of some kind were being made. In front of the second cabin War Hawk was in close conference with several of the braves. Nearer to her, in fact within a few paces of her own wigwam, stood a single savage, holding by the bridles two horses—one of which she recognized at a glance as Whirlwind, the favorite steed of War Hawk.
This man stood with his back toward her, his eyes bent in the direction of the others, evidently more intent upon the conference of his brethren than upon the movements of the captive girl. The great black steed, that stood almost unwatched and within, as it were, arm's length of her, was the fleetest among the fleet horses of the tribe.
Great acts are often the effect of intuition. She tried the fastenings, and found nothing to hinder her egress. A moment, and she had noiselessly glided to the side of Whirlwind. A moment more and she had swung herself upon him, had snatched up the bridle, struck him a sharp blow across the shoulder—and then, like an arrow, had bounded away and was sweeping back toward the mountains through which they had just passed!
The noble steed, to which Edith, practiced horseman that she was, clung so closely and firmly, had not hesitated a moment. He swung at once into a pace that was tremendous. His rider retained her seat with ease, and while urging him to his highest speed, did not for a moment lose her perfect mastery of him. The other horse had wrenched himself loose at the time that Whirlwind started, and, bearing no burden, kept neck and neck with her.
Soon the wild shouts of War Hawk and his allies died away in the distance. She saw an opening in the hills, the defile of a cañon looming dark before her; and into its recesses she plunged without a moment's hesitation. What might be in store for her beyond, in the lonesome darkness, she neither knew, nor thought of, nor cared for. For the time at least, Edith Van Payne was free.