With all a woman's trust she
throws herself in his arms. "Save me! save me!" she cries; "do not let
them slay me before your eyes; make me your prisoner! [Footnote: When
the Sioux are tired of killing, they sometimes take their victims
prisoners, and, generally speaking, treat them with great kindness.] you
said that you loved me, spare my life!"
Who shall tell his agony? For a moment he thought he would make her his
prisoner. Another moment's reflection convinced him that that would be
of no avail. He knew that she must die, but he could not take her life.
Her eyes were trustingly turned upon him; her soft hand grasped his arm.
But the Sioux warriors were pressing upon them, he gave her one more
look, he touched her with his spear, [Footnote: When a Dahcotah touches
an enemy with his spear, he is privileged to wear a feather of honor, as
if he had taken a scalp.] and he was gone.
And Flying Shadow was dead. She felt not the blow that sent her reeling
to the earth. Her lover had forsaken her in the hour of danger, and what
could she feel after that?
The scalp was torn from her head by one of those who had most admired
her beauty; and her body was trampled upon by the very warriors who had
so envied her lover.
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