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Updated: May 6, 2025
Ever dreaming of the thunderbolt that was about to be launched, Whitewing, Little Tim, Bounding Bull, and the rest of the party arrived at the little fortress in the gorge. They found Big Tim on the qui vive, and Brighteyes with Whitewing's mother was soon introduced to the wounded preacher.
Even Whitewing's spirit was depressed for a time, and he could offer no consolation to the bereaved fathers, or find much comfort to himself; yet in the midst of all the mental darkness by which he was at that time surrounded, two sentences which the pale-face missionary had impressed on him gleamed forth now and then, like two flickering stars in a very black sky.
And how shall we speak of the state of poor Whitewing's feelings? No sound escaped his compressed lips, but a terrible light seemed to gleam from his dark eyes, as, clasping his mother convulsively to his breast with his left arm, he grasped his tomahawk, and urged his horse to its utmost speed.
The request was complied with, and thenceforward the white man and the red became more inseparable than ever. They hunted and dwelt together to the ineffable joy of Whitewing's wrinkled old mother, whose youth seemed absolutely to revive under the influence of the high-pressure affection brought to bear on a colony of brown and whitey-brown grand-children by whom she was at last surrounded.
Ah! women, you've much to answer for!" Having thus apostrophised the sex, he hurried on in silence, leaving his horse to the care of a youth, who also took charge of Whitewing's steed. Close to the outskirts of the camp stood a wigwam somewhat apart from the rest. It belonged to Whitewing. Only two women were in it at the time the young Indian chief approached.
It chanced that the two parties of horsemen journeyed in nearly opposite directions, so that every hour of the night separated them from each other more and more. It was not until Whitewing's party had proceeded far on their way to Tim's Folly that suspicion began to be aroused and inquiry to be made in the camp.
Rushing River knew that leader to be one of the fiercest and most cruel of his tribe. Softswan was seated at the feet of the missionary, with her face bowed upon her knees. She was not bound, but a savage stood near to watch her. Whitewing's old mother sat or rather crouched, close to her. What had already passed Rushing River of course could only guess.
Still Bounding Bull maintained his grasp on his old foe, and held the knife in readiness, so that if there should be any sudden attempt at rescue, he, at least, should not escape. The two Tims, Little and Big, although moved by Whitewing's remarks, were clearly not quite convinced. They seemed uncertain how to view the matter, and were still hesitating when Rushing River again spoke.
The attack on the hut, however, and the events which we have just related, prevented the son from going out in search of the father; but now that the Blackfeet had been effectually repulsed and the fortress relieved by the arrival of Whitewing's party, it was resolved that they should organise a search for the absentee without an hour's delay.
"Yes, a daughter Moonlight we call her," said Brighteyes, with a pleased look. "Is she here with you?" "No; we left her in the camp." "And my good old friend," he said, turning on his couch, and grasping the withered hand of Whitewing's mother, "how has she prospered in all these years?"
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