She knew the day was at hand,
and with its first beams she was safely tucked
into one of those round turns left by the river
long ago in changing its bed, now become a
little grassy hollow sheltered by steep banks,
and hidden by a fringe of trees. Here she
picketed her pony, and took her own rest. Not
until the afternoon shadows were long did she
awake and go forth with determination to seek
for the battlefield and for the Crow encamp-
ment.
It was not long before she came upon the
bodies of fallen horses and men. There was
Matoska's white charger, with a Sioux arrow in
his side, and she divined the treachery of Red
Owl! But he was dead, and his death had
atoned for the crime. The body of her lover
was nowhere to be found; yet how should they
have taken the bravest of the Sioux a cap-
tive?
"If he had but one arrow left, he would stand
and fight! If his bow-string were broken, he
would still welcome death with a strong heart,"
she thought.
The evening was approaching and the Crow
village in plain sight.
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