down for a few hours' sleep.

Tired as he was, Chitta fell asleep almost instantly; but it was fully
an hour after he had done so that a tall Indian rose, without a sound,
from the clump of bushes, concealed by which he had all this time been
watching the motionless figure, and cautiously approached it. In his
hands the tall Indian held a slender cord of twisted deer-hide, in one
end of which was a noose.

Without a movement that could arouse the lightest sleeper, he knelt by
Chitta's side, and with great dexterity managed to pass the noose over
both his moccasined feet without disturbing his slumber. Drawing it as
tightly as he dared, the tall Indian made the other end fast to a
sapling, and sat down beside the sleeper to patiently await his
awakening.

At length, just as the sun was appearing in the far east, Chitta
stirred uneasily, yawned, threw the blanket off from his head, and sat
up. As his gaze fell upon the motionless figure beside him he uttered
a sort of a gasping cry and sprang to his feet. He had hardly gained
them before the noose did its work, and, tripped by it, he fell heavily
to the ground. The tall Indian had also sprung to his feet, and now
stood over the prostrate form of his victim, with a cruel smile
lighting his dark features.

Although wicked, Chitta was no coward, and finding himself thus trapped
by an unknown enemy, he coolly asked, as he lay there,

"Who art thou, and what have I done to thee that thou shouldst thus
snare me like Pet-che?" (the pigeon).