He relieved the warrior whom he had left at his post.  The latter whispered to him that nothing suspicious had turned up.  Suddenly Tyope started and pressed his ear to the ground; then he darted up, rising to his knees, and listened, straining every nerve, his head turned to the southwest.

In that direction arose loud yells.  They were followed by piercing cries.  Soon the sounds mingled, so as to create a noise like that which a struggle between men and wolves might produce.  These sounds told Tyope that a severe engagement had commenced in that direction.  At the same time it struck him that the main body of the Tehuas were probably south and east of his forces, and that consequently by moving swiftly westward he could interpose himself between the Tehuas and their homes, cut off their warriors from their village, and secure complete triumph.  But before he could order such a change of tactics he ought to know something definite from the quarter where the fight had begun.  To send a runner seemed unadvisable, for he thought it unsafe to lessen the forces around him, if only by a man.  Several of his companions had approached, startled by the sudden noise.  He motioned them to return to their posts.

The noise of the battle diminished; then it broke out anew and sounded nearer.  It seemed to extend to the east.  In the west and north everything remained quiet; the enemy appeared to be entirely southwest and east of the little army which Tyope commanded.  He felt relieved, and a grim satisfaction crept over his mind.  He thought, surely the Tehuas have committed a grave mistake.

If only his people would report to him!  Now at last!  The bushes rattled, and a man stepped up.  In a tone of intense agitation he said,—­

“Where is the war-chief?”

“I am here,” replied Tyope in a muffled voice, motioning the warrior to lie down.  The latter either failed to notice the gesture or misunderstood it, and walked on upright.  Something whizzed through the branches of the shrubs; the messenger bent as if suddenly folded up; he grasped at his stomach with his hand, and tumbled to the ground.  Tyope stood by his side in the twinkling of an eye.  The shaft of an arrow was sticking in his body, and in vain did the wounded man try to pluck it out.  Regardless of the horrible pain the unfortunate one was suffering, bent upon catching the drift of his message before the soul could escape the tortured body, Tyope almost lay down on the groaning man.

“What news do you bring?  Speak!” he hissed into his ear.

The wounded warrior moaned, moaned again.  Tyope grew wild.

“Speak!” he growled, and shook him by the shoulder so rudely that the other screamed.

“The Moshome,” he gasped, “they—­they—­have come on to us.”  A chill went through his body; he lay there gasping, incapable of speech.

Tyope was frenzied; he again shook the dying man ruthlessly.