me and I will follow on later, after I have seen what the trouble
is."

"Very well, my friend, I will do as you say, but I am afraid
something has happened to Pretty Feather." Hake started on with
the horses, driving them along the broad trail left by the hundreds
of travois. Chaske made slowly towards the tepee, and stopping
outside, stood and listened. Not a sound could he hear. The only
living thing he saw was Pretty Feather's spotted horse tied to the
side of the tent. Then he knew that she must be dead. He rode off
into the thick brush and tied his two horses securely. Then he came
back and entered the tepee. There on a bed of robes lay some one
apparently dead. The body was wrapped in blankets and robes and
bound around and around with parfleche ropes. These he carefully
untied and unwound. Then he unwrapped the robes and blankets and
when he uncovered the face, he saw, as he had expected to, the face
of his lost love, Pretty Feather. As he sat gazing on her
beautiful young face, his heart ached for his poor friend. He
himself had loved and lost this beautiful maiden, and now his
friend who had won her would have to suffer the untold grief which
he had suffered.

What was that? Could it have been a slight quivering of the
nostrils that he had seen, or was it mad fancy playing a trick on
him? Closer he drew to her face, watching intently for another
sign. There it was again, only this time it was a long, deep drawn
breath. He arose, got some water and taking a small stick slowly
forced open her mouth and poured some into it. Then he took some
sage, dipped it into the water and sprinkled a little on her head
and face. There were many parfleche bags piled around the tepee,