THE TULAMEEN TRAIL

and two other wary, strategic brains to help him, while on the younger was but the ad- vantage of splendid youth and unconquerable persistence. But at every pitched battle, at every skirmish, at every single-handed con- flict the younger man gained little by little, the older man lost step by step. The expe- rience of age was gradually but inevitably giv- ing way to the strength and enthusiasm of youth. Then one day they met face to face and alone—the old war-scarred chief, the young battle-inspired brave. It was an un- equal combat, and at the close of a brief but violent struggle the younger had brought the older to his knees. Standing over him with up-poised knife the Tulameen brave laughed sneeringly, and said:

“Would you, my enemy, have this victory as your own? If so, I give it to you; but in return for my submission I demand of you- your daughter.”

For an instant the old chief looked in won- derment at his conqueror; he thought of his daughter only a a child who played about the forest trails or sat obediently beside her mother in the lodge, stitching her little moc- casins or weaving her little baskets.

“My daughter!” he answered stemly. “My daughter—who is barely out of her own cradle basket—give her to you, whose hands are

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