Drawing it as
tightly as he dared, the tall Indian made the other end fast to a
sapling, and sat down beside the sleeper to patiently await his
awakening.
At length, just as the sun was appearing in the far east, Chitta
stirred uneasily, yawned, threw the blanket off from his head, and sat
up. As his gaze fell upon the motionless figure beside him he uttered
a sort of a gasping cry and sprang to his feet. He had hardly gained
them before the noose did its work, and, tripped by it, he fell heavily
to the ground. The tall Indian had also sprung to his feet, and now
stood over the prostrate form of his victim, with a cruel smile
lighting his dark features.
Although wicked, Chitta was no coward, and finding himself thus trapped
by an unknown enemy, he coolly asked, as he lay there,
"Who art thou, and what have I done to thee that thou shouldst thus
snare me like Pet-che?" (the pigeon).
For answer the tall Indian said, "I will first tell thee who thou art.
Thy name is Chitta. Thou wast overthrown but yesterday at the Feast of
Ripe Corn by the lad who wears in his hair the To-fa chat-te" (red
feather). "Thou art he who set fire to the storehouse of corn. Above
all, thou art now, like myself, an outlaw forever from thy people; for
know that I am that Seminole called Cat-sha" (the tiger).
At this name Chitta gave a start of surprise, for though he had never
before seen this Indian, the name of Cat-sha had been familiar to him
from his childhood.
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