The expression of the face of Deerfoot was terrible. The whole fury of his nature was at white heat. He knew that the two Winnebagos had set out to commit a fearful crime, and it was his work to stay their hands. There was but the single way in which they could be stayed.

The young Shawanoe kept back a couple of paces from the edge of the ravine, where the shadow of the stunted trees above would hide him from his foes when they should come in sight. He held his gun pointed and cocked. Though his passion had the glow of the furnace, he was as calm as death.

He had not long to wait. By and by a low guttural exclamation struck his ear, and his hearing, strung to a marvelously fine point, caught the sound of the soft moccasins on the hard earth. Less than a minute later the form of the Wolf came into the moonlight, as a bather emerges from the side of a lake. Seeing the open ravine at his feet, he stopped, and instantly his companion, Wau-ko-mia-tan, appeared at his side.

They quickly saw that the leap was an easy one.

"Wau-ko-mia-tan will leap across," said that warrior, "then the Wolf will follow; let us lose no time, for the Shawanoe may be gone."

The speaker recoiled a single pace and gathered his muscles for the leap. He took one quick step and made a terrific bound upward and outward, straight for the rocky brink whereon Deerfoot the Shawanoe instantly stepped into the moonlight.

The Winnebago was in mid-air, crouching like a leaper, with his legs gathered under him and his arms at his side, when there was a fierce whiz, like the rush of an eagle's wing, something flashed in the moonlight, and the tomahawk, driven by a lightning-like sweep of the Shawanoe's arm, was buried in the chest of the Winnebago as it would have sunk in so much sodden earth.

An ear-splitting screech burst from the throat of the smitten warrior, who struck the edge of the ravine like a bundle of rags flung thither, and then tumbled to the bottom as dead as the jagged rock on which he lay.

The Wolf stood transfixed, unable to understand what had taken place. Then he saw the figure of the youthful warrior on the other side and heard his voice.

"Rattlesnake of a Winnebago! Die the death of the rattlesnake!"

The wretch was given no time to protest again, for the words were yet in the mouth of Deerfoot when the flash of his rifle lit up the partial gloom, and the crack of the weapon mingled with the death shriek of the redskin, who slumped end over end down the ravine and lay beside the body of Wau-ko-mia-tan as dead as he.

"Thus shall die all that seek to follow your footsteps," muttered the Shawanoe, who, standing where he stood when he slew both, proceeded to reload his rifle with as much coolness as though he had just fired at a target on a tree.

This finished, he let himself over the edge of the ravine, holding fast a moment by one hand, and then letting go, dropped lightly beside the two bodies that lay below. His face showed no excitement now, and he moved with his usual care and deliberation. Drawing the hunting-knife which he had taken from the Wolf, he partly bent over, but straightened up again, saying to himself:

"Deerfoot is a Christian Indian and can not scalp a foe though as base as they."

Picking up each rifle (that of Wau-ko-mia-tan being still clutched by his nerveless fingers while the Wolf's had fallen from his grasp), he deliberately broke the locks of each by striking them on the stones. He then recovered his own tomahawk, and carried off the useless weapons with him.

He passed down the ravine until he reached a point where the sides were not so high. There he clambered out, still keeping the two broken guns. He had reached high ground on the side from which had come the Winnebagos, and he walked grimly forward, until in a brief while he reached the main trail over which he and the boys had passed a brief while before.

He turned toward the left, which led him in the direction of the camp of the Ozarks as well as toward the camp of Black Bear and his Winnebagos. He took longer steps than usual, but did not trot or run.

When he once more caught the glimmer of the camp-fire among the trees, he slackened his pace and drew nigh with the caution that had become a second nature to him. He quickly saw that the Winnebagos had disposed of themselves for the night. The fire was burning as brightly as ever, because of the attention it received from the two warriors who were standing on guard.

The party were in a portion of the country where they knew there was scarcely a possibility of their being molested by any one; but the American Indian loves nothing like laziness and war; and, treacherous by nature himself, he expects treachery at all times in others. And so, although they knew of no enemies within miles of them (unless it was Deerfoot, whom they did not fear) they had two vigilant sentinels on duty. The rest were stretched out on their blankets with their feet turned toward the blaze, sleeping like so many tired animals.

At the moment of Deerfoot's approach, the Winnebagos on guard were standing some twenty feet apart, with the fire burning between them. Each held a loaded gun in hand and cast his keen glance hither and thither in the gloom, eyes and ears alert for the first suspicious sight or sound.

The sentinel nearer Deerfoot was Black Bear himself. The chieftain evidently believed that the best way to instruct his warriors in their duty was to set the example. His attitude showed that something had arrested his attention. Deerfoot knew that the sound had been made by his moccasin, for he purposely rustled the leaves.

Black Bear looked intently off in the gloom, but seeing nothing, turned his head and told the other guard to fling more wood upon the fire. He obeyed, and the circle of light quickly extended out among the trees.

It would have been an easy matter for the Shawanoe to slay both, but he had no thought of doing so. That would have been killing without justification.

The Winnebago chieftain was gazing intently into the night, when from behind a tree, no more than a dozen steps distant, softly stepped the young Shawanoe.

"Listen, Black Bear," said he, "to the words of Deerfoot the Shawanoe. Twice did he spare the life of the Wolf and the Wolf thanked him, but he went out a third time to take his life; he was a rattlesnake, but he had not the courage of the rattlesnake, for he took with him Wau-ko-mia-tan, whose heart was that of a rattlesnake also; they bent their steps where none but Deerfoot has the right to go; therefore Deerfoot killed them and took away their guns. There they are!"

In the same minute that Deerfoot began speaking, the second sentinel stepped forward and took his place beside his chief. That both were amazed need not be said. Each stood with the muzzle of his gun lowered, neither dreaming that the youth thought of assailing them.

Deerfoot spoke in the slow but impressive voice natural to his race. But the last exclamation escaped him like the discharge from a Leyden jar. So quickly that neither saw a movement, he hurled the broken gun of the chief straight at him, following it with the second gun driven at his companion.

Both hit their mark. Black Bear was struck in the chest with such force, that he was carried off his feet and knocked half fainting to the earth. The other was hit and compelled to recoil a step, but the weapon struck him lengthwise, and he was not harmed. He rallied and brought his gun to his shoulder, but by the time it was leveled, the Shawanoe had vanished.

Such an exploit, as you may well suppose, caused consternation among the Winnebagos for the space of several minutes. No gun had been fired, but the American Indian is a light sleeper, and slight as was the disturbance, it aroused every one. There was a gathering about the fallen chieftain, who, however, came to his feet without help, though he gasped and was weak for a few moments. The explanation given by the other sentinel removed the general fear of an attack, but three of the warriors scattered through the wood to make sure that no surprise overtook them, while the others with an agitation rare among red men talked over the astounding occurrence.

The broken rifles lying on the ground left no doubt that when the Shawanoe declared he had slain both the Wolf and Wau-ko-mia-tan he spoke the truth. Else, how could their shattered guns be in his possession?

And this same youth, with an audacity beyond comprehension, had flung the two guns at the chieftain and his brother warrior and defied them. It seemed as though he must be more than a human being, to be capable of such deeds. Legends had reached them of some of the exploits of the wonderful young Shawanoe, but this surpassed them all.

The Winnebagos, however, were among the bravest tribes in the west, and when they broke camp at early dawn, Deerfoot, who was on the watch, knew that it was their determination to slay every one of the three hunters in the camp at the foot of the Ozarks, as soon as they could reach them.