gone. The warriors are in the enemy's camp, breaking dreams with their
tomahawks. The women are hid away in secret places in the long thicketed
ravine.

The day is far spent, the red sun is low over the west.

At length straggling warriors return, one by one, to the deep hollow. In
the twilight they number their men. Three are missing. Of these absent
ones two are dead; but the third one, a young man, is a captive to the
foe.

"He-he!" lament the warriors, taking food in haste.

In silence each woman, with long strides, hurries to and fro, tying
large bundles on her pony's back. Under cover of night the war party
must hasten homeward. Motionless, with bowed head, sits a woman in her
hiding-place. She grieves for her lover.

In bitterness of spirit she hears the warriors' murmuring words. With
set teeth she plans to cheat the hated enemy of their captive. In the
meanwhile low signals are given, and the war party, unaware of Tusee's
absence, steal quietly away. The soft thud of pony-hoofs grows fainter
and fainter. The gradual hush of the empty ravine whirrs noisily in the
ear of the young woman. Alert for any sound of footfalls nigh, she holds
her breath to listen. Her right hand rests on a long knife in her belt.
Ah, yes, she knows where her pony is hid, but not yet has she need of
him. Satisfied that no danger is nigh, she prowls forth from her place
of hiding. With a panther's tread and pace she climbs the high ridge
beyond the low ravine. From thence she spies the enemy's camp-fires.