might perhaps be shown to the young women of the tribe; and if one of them chose him as her husband, his life would be spared.

These customs, which he had often heard of in the stories told by Jack Williams, flashed through his mind in an instant. He prepared himself for the worst, and braced his nerves to show no symptoms of pain or fatigue.

The chief took up a position opposite to him. With great dignity and in a wonderfully fine voice he pronounced sentence upon Howku-tho. Every one present was surprised at the punishment, and the magician himself had great difficulty in retaining the rage that possessed him. Tsa-ut-weih then turned to Ralph, and told him in English that his life would be spared.

The young man raised himself up defiantly, knowing what an influence this would have on the savages, and said in a loud tone,

Great Chief, are the Blackfeet such poor runners, that they are afraid the white man will escape from them, that they have tied me so fast to this tree? Do they shoot so badly that they fear their arrows would miss me?' Ralph knew that he risked a great deal in saying this, but he felt sure that the chief had spoken on his behalf, or preparations for his death would have been made.

Although unable to understand what he said, the Indians were astonished at his bold and defiant tone, and uttering a piercing shriek they seized their tomahawks.

Tsa-ut-weih looked sternly, but not angrily

at him.

"He is right," he said; "it is a disgrace to us to bind him in such a way. Untie him."

The chief's word was enough, and Ralph was relieved from the intense pain which he had suffered so long; but the cords had cut so deeply into his ankles that he could scarcely stand.

An immediate march was ordered, and instantly the greatest activity prevailed. The horses were brought, and some were loaded with the carcases of the buffaloes which had been taken in the chase, and others with the wigwams, which had been rapidly taken down.

The chief remained still at the spot on which he had given the decision of the council. He glanced sharply at Ralph now and then, but without the hatred and malice that was expressed in the faces of the other Indians. "Can you walk ? he asked him at last in English.

If I must walk, I'll go till I drop," said Ralph. My feet are lamed; you can see it, great chief."

The chief looked at his swollen ankles, and ordered a horse to be brought for him; and in less than an hour the whole troop was on its way to the boundless prairie.

THE

CHAPTER IV.

THE DANGERS OF THE PRAIRIE.

HE banks of the Kansas, which were at first wooded, soon opened out into the prairie, which spread as far as the eye could reach. It was like a rolling sea, but varied now and then by considerable undulations. Not a tree was visible to invite relief beneath its grateful shade. On all sides nothing was to be seen but the tall prairie grass, seven or eight feet high, over which it was difficult for a rider to look, and which soon became wearisome with its monotony.

The sun poured down its fierce rays from a sky of unclouded blue, and scarcely a breath of wind was perceptible. The road taken by the party was the one by which they had travelled before, for the grass was trampled down by the horses' hoofs, and had also been used by a herd of buffaloes on their way to quench their thirst in the Kansas, for which they had found no springs in the prairies. It resembled a road through a luxuriant corn-field; for the grass was in full ear, and of a bright golden colour.

They moved forward rapidly without rest

ing. No sound was to be heard but the tramp of the horses and an occasional neigh when wild horses, which abound in large herds, were scented in the distance.

Ralph rode between two Indians who had the special charge of him. He had abundant time to reflect upon the distressing change that had taken place in his position and prospects. His sad thoughts flew home to his dear mother far away, who was now deprived of her last earthly support, and in earnest prayer he commended her to the mercy of God. He thought of his dear old. friend, who had fallen a victim to the hatred of the savages. He called to mind the love and friendship which had existed between his father and the old trapper, and of his thorough goodness of heart, in spite of the rough and wild life which he had led, with its many dangers and privations; and remembered the strange forebodings which he had expressed such a short time before, that he should soon follow his friend Tom to the grave. All the dangers which they had shared together came back to his memory, and made his heart sad as the thought of his dear mother so soon deprived of God's most precious gifts, her husband and her son. The golden door of life, that had opened to him so pleasantly, seemed now about to close suddenly and painfully. The thought of his complete loneliness depressed him very much. Sometimes a ray of hope cheered his heart, and led him to think that he might be saved

after all; but a glance at the cruel and vindictive eyes of the Indians caused such fancies to vanish like a bubble in the air.

But although his heart bled inwardly, he preserved the greatest outward composure. No trace of his sorrow was visible to the Indians. His mother had early instilled into his heart a knowledge of the living God, and he had been blessed with grace from above, so that although everything around him was so gloomy, and death might be very near, he regained perfect composure by remembering that God was near, and that nothing could happen to him without His permission.

In consequence of the great speed with which the Indians travelled, they got over a large space of ground very soon. Not even in the heat of the noonday sun did they indulge themselves with a moment's rest. Ralph could not comprehend the reason of such haste, not being able to understand what they whispered among themselves. Had he known their language, it would have made his flesh creep with horror to learn that their rapid march was caused by the fear that death in the most dreadful form would overtake them if they remained long in the prairie.

When the sun has completely dried the grass, nothing is more to be dreaded than that it should take fire. It was at one time thought that the grass took fire of itself, but that is now given up. It is one of the most terrible things that can be conceived; for it