may be death if they knew I was in the medicine-tent. Not even the warriors dare come in here where they keep the sacred bundles. And if I cut you free you will be taken again."
"I have a knife in my boot. I know how to use it. I can die fighting and not at the hands of a squaw."
"Psst! Be quiet—some one comes."
Lander saw the figure approaching from one of the fires. The man dropped at his side and examined his bonds and made sure the pegs were holding. Then he rose and with a guttural exclamation struck the prisoner in the face. He hesitated after the blow, muttered fiercely, then turned back to the fire.
"Curse him!" panted Lander through his bloody lips.
"He says you broke his nose," whispered Gardepied. "And—well, we shall see what we shall see. It will be better to die fighting, of course. Oh, much better!"
"What else did he say?" demanded Lander.
"He spoke of the green rawhide torture. As it dries it shrinks and holds like iron. They fasten the stone heads on their war-clubs with it. It is all too cruel to talk about. I am part Arapaho
