Suddenly, as Oshondonto was about to speak, Silver Tassel sprang to his
feet, seized in his arms a lad of twelve who was standing near, and
running to the bank, dropped him into the swift current.
"If Oshondonto be not a child, let him save the lad," said Silver Tassel,
standing on the brink.
Instantly William Rufus Holly was on his feet. His coat was off before
Silver Tassel's words were out of his mouth, and crying, "In the name of
the Great White Chief!" he jumped into the rushing current. "In the
name of your Manitou, come on, Silver Tassel!" he called up from the
water, and struck out for the lad.
Not pausing an instant, Silver Tassel sprang into the flood, into the
whirling eddies and dangerous current below the first rapids and above
the second.
Then came the struggle for Wingo of the Cree tribe, a waif among the
Athabascas, whose father had been slain as they travelled, by a wandering
tribe of Blackfeet. Never was there a braver rivalry, although the odds
were with the Indian-in lightness, in brutal strength. With the
mikonaree, however, were skill, and that sort of strength which the world
calls "moral," the strength of a good and desperate purpose.
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