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Updated: April 30, 2025
As it is at all times unwise as well as disagreeable to involve a reader in needless mystery, we may as well explain here that there would have been no mystery at all in Little Tim's prolonged absence from his fortress, if it had not been that he was aware of the intended visit of his chum and brother-in-law, Whitewing, and his old friend the pale-faced missionary, and that he had promised to return on the evening of the day on which he set off to hunt or on the following morning at latest.
"Well, I don't know as to that, Whitewing, but my advice, whatever it's worth, is, that we should try to fall on the reptiles in front and rear at the same time, and that you and I should go out in advance to scout." "Good," said the Indian; "my plan is so arranged."
He will be here before the shadows of the trees grow much longer." "Whitewing?" exclaimed Softswan, with a gleam of pleasure in her bright black eyes. "Just so. The prairie chief has come back to us, and is now a preacher."
With the courage of the lion, Little Tim, as he was styled, combined the agility of the monkey and the laziness of the sloth. Strange to say, Tim and Whitewing were bosom friends, although they differed in opinion on most things.
My brother advises that we should go on the war-path at once, and drive the Blackfeet away. Has Bounding Bull tried his best to bring them to reason? has he failed? Does he know that peace is impossible?" "Now look here, Whitewing," broke in Little Tim at this point. "It's all very well for you to talk about peace an' what's possible.
"Mystery," thought the red man, as he and his friend walked swiftly along, taking advantage of the shelter afforded by every glade, thicket, or eminence; "all is mystery!" But Whitewing was wrong, as many men in all ages have been on first bending their minds to the consideration of spiritual things. All is not mystery.
For one moment Whitewing drew up to breathe his gallant steed, but the animal was roused by that time, and it was difficult to restrain him. His companion's horse was also nearly unmanageable. "My brother's voice is strong. Let him use it well," said the chief abruptly. "Ay, ay," replied the little trapper, with an intelligent chuckle; "go ahead, my boy. I'll give it out fit to bu'st the bellows."
The preacher looked up inquiringly, for he was too well acquainted with the ways of Indians not to know that the cry was a signal from a biped without wings. He saw that Big Tim and his bride were both listening intently, with expressions of joyful expectation on their faces. Again the cry was heard, much nearer than before. "Whitewing!" exclaimed the hunter, leaping up and hastening to the door.
Here they bound their captive securely to a tree, and gave him a drink of water with a knife pointed at his heart to keep him quiet, after which they re-gagged him. Then Whitewing led Lightheart through the thicket towards his horse, and took her up behind him. Little Tim took charge of Brighteyes.
The dispersion of their foes and the arrival of friends almost immediately followed these words. But the friends who arrived were few in number at first, for Whitewing had given strict orders as to the treatment of the enemy.
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