The Pawnees lost the trail. They looked here and there while the main body pursued old Lay-law-she-kaw and his braves to the country of the Kaws. Night fell; and still Pa-che-ta lay concealed in the lake among the tall grass. At the end of the second day the search was abandoned.
Then the prisoner, half starved and half demented, dragged himself slowly homeward. A few berries and roots had been his sole food, and the burning rays of the sun had beaten down upon his head, until reason tottered.
The people went wild with enthusiasm when their hero, emaciated but triumphant, appeared in the village. He was taken to Lay-law-she-kaw's habitation and provided with nourishment, but sank into a stupor from which the medicine men, with all their skill, could not arouse him.
After many days he awakened; great was the rejoicing. His father appointed a day of feasting; and the tribe gathered to do honor to him who had fought so bravely in the face of defeat. Cattle were slaughtered, fires were kindled, and strange dances were in progress when Pa-che-ta approached. Demonstrations of joy greeted his appearance.
Among the children on the outer edge of the circle, stood little N-tha-thah, gazing proudly at the big brother who would one day be his chief. As the excitement increased, his heart swelled with pride, and the next moment found him, bow and arrows in hand, the center of the charmed circle.
Pa-che-ta gazed at the child with a strange look in his piercing black eyes. Then, with a stealthy movement, he turned and slowly reached for the rifle which rested against the stump of a tree.
Lay-law-she-kaw, keen witted and alert, noticed the sudden change that came over the face of his eldest son. What was the cause of that cruel, crafty expression? Had bad spirits entered the brain of Pa-che-ta, whose noble deeds would ever after be celebrated by the nation? Now the brave was creeping cautiously toward the little one, who stood motionless, in round-eyed wonder. Deliberately he placed the weapon to his shoulder and took aim--but the crack of another rifle broke the awful hush which had fallen upon the people, and when the smoke cleared away, Pa-che-ta lay in a pool of blood. The father had fired in time to preserve his young child.