up behind him and started madly 

 careering for the Agency. But the 

 horse soon gave in to the sharp 

 bit and settled to a walk. Manita 

 had her arms around Whiteshirt's 

 waist, holding on. Her brain was 

 busy. Suddenly she spoke. 



" It-tas-da-chirsch, they are going 

 to send me to Carlisle." 



A grunt came from in front. 



"I hate them." 



Whiteleg nodded. 



"I won't go." 



Silence in front. 



"It-tas-da-chirsch, I won't go, I 

 won't go and you must help me." 

 The arm around his body tightened 

 into a squeeze, and Manita's lips 

 were close to his cheek. "There is 

 but one way to escape the White 

 Devils. I must marry in my tribe; 

 Whiteleg, will you marry me?" 



There was no response, so Manita 

 hurried on. ' ' We won't really marry, 

 you know. Only make believe, ac- 

 cording to the Whiteman's ceremony 

 and their God, and we would go 

 away to your teepee. Wah-pu-ta, 

 your mother, would help us, and 

 on the next Sunday, at the meeting 



