Hurrying him to a clump of small trees on the plain which was so far distant from the village that a yell could not be heard, they removed the bandage from Mahtawa’s mouth.

“Must he be kill?” inquired Henri, in a tone of commiseration.

“Not at all,” answered Joe; “we’ll tie him to a tree and leave him here.”

“Then he vill be starve to deat’.  Oh, dat is more horrobell!”

“He must take his chance o’ that.  I’ve no doubt his friends’ll find him in a day or two, an’ he’s game to last for a week or more.  But you’ll have to run to the willow bluff, Dick, and bring a bit of line to tie him.  We can’t spare it well; but there’s no help.”

“But there is help,” retorted Dick.  “Just order the villain to climb into that tree.”

“Why so, lad?”

“Don’t ask questions, but do what I bid ye.”

The hunter smiled for a moment as he turned to the Indian, and ordered him to climb up a small tree near to which he stood.  Mahtawa looked surprised, but there was no alternative.  Joe’s authoritative tone brooked no delay, so he sprang into the tree like a monkey.

“Crusoe,” said Dick, “watch him!”

The dog sat quietly down at the foot of the tree, and fixed his eyes on the savage with a glare that spoke unutterable things.  At the same time he displayed his full complement of teeth, and uttered a sound like distant thunder.

Joe almost laughed, and Henri did laugh outright.

“Come along; he’s safe now,” cried Dick, hurrying away in the direction of the willow bluff, which they soon reached, and found that the faithful squaw had tied their steeds to the bushes, and, moreover, had bundled up their goods into a pack, and strapped it on the back of the pack-horse; but she had not remained with them.

“Bless yer dark face!” ejaculated Joe, as he sprang into the saddle and rode out of the clump of bushes.

He was followed immediately by the others, and in three minutes they were flying over the plain at full speed.

On gaining the last far-off ridge, that afforded a distant view of the woods skirting the Pawnee camp, they drew up; and Dick, putting his fingers to his mouth, drew a long, shrill whistle.

It reached the willow bluff like a faint echo.  At the same moment the moon arose and more clearly revealed Crusoe’s cataleptic glare at the Indian chief, who, being utterly unarmed, was at the dog’s mercy.  The instant the whistle fell on his ear, however, he dropped his eyes, covered his teeth, and, leaping through the bushes, flew over the plains like an arrow.  At the same instant Mahtawa, descending from his tree, ran as fast as he could towards the village, uttering the terrible war-whoop when near enough to be heard.  No sound sends such a thrill through an Indian camp.  Every warrior flew to arms, and vaulted on his steed.  So quickly was the alarm given that in less than ten minutes a thousand hoofs were thundering on the plain, and faintly reached the ears of the fugitives.