Charley ran out, and soon returned with Dr. Beach, who, happily for us, had been out on one of those errands which are always rousing doctors from their beds.

Dr. Beach was a burly, rough-mannered sort of man, but he could be very kind and tender in the exercise of his profession.  He wasted no time in questions, but looked grave when he saw how the old man was hurt.

“Needn’t tell me,” said the Panther, quietly.  “Know it’s the end.  Kill one of ’em, anyhow!” he concluded in a tone of calm satisfaction.

“And I wish with all my heart you had killed the other,” said the doctor, bitterly.  “He got off, I suppose.”

The Panther showed his white teeth in a laugh.  “No,” he said, pointing to me:  “she got him—­she and the cat.  Pretty well for one little squaw and pussy-cat.  Mamma, you keep that kitty always.”

“Where is the scoundrel?” asked the doctor.

“Shut up in that closet.”

Here the man within cried out that he was “kilt” already, and should be hung if we did not let him go.

“I hope you will, with all my heart,” said the doctor.

With some difficulty we helped the Panther into the parlor and laid him on the sofa.

He told us the story in a few words.  He had been asleep when the door was burst open.  The man whom he had killed had fired the shot.  He had kept his feet to strike one blow with the axe, and the other man had sprung upon him as he fell.

The doctor did what little he could to ease his patient, and then went away, but soon returned with some men from the village, who were quite ready to lynch the criminal when they heard what he had done.  They took the man away, however, and I am happy to say he afterward received the heaviest sentence the law would allow.  He confessed that, knowing the chief had a large sum in his possession, himself and his companion had broken the lock of the rifle, intending to waylay the old man and shoot him in the woods.  They had not, however, been able to overtake him till he reached the clearing, and then, fearing to encounter him, they had followed him at a distance and watched him enter our house.  Knowing that the captain was gone, they had waited until all was quiet, and then made their entrance as described.

The Panther asked that some one might go to the reservation and send over three of his friends, whom he named.  He was very anxious to see Wyanota, and Calvin Bruce, who had come with the doctor, instantly volunteered to take his trotting mare and do both errands.  The chestnut did her work gallantly, though unhappily in vain, for the old man did not live to see his friends.

“Don’t you fret, you two,” he said, softly, as Minny and I watched over him.  “Great deal the best way for old Ingin.  Die like a man now:  not cough myself to death, like an old dog.  Minny, little girl, you tell your husband be good to our people, well as he can.  Not much of our nation left now—­not good for much, either,” he added; “but you tell him and the captain stand their friends, won’t you?”