ago.

Nevil waited. He knew by the delay of her answer that she would accept his
invitation, and he wanted her to go over to the Reservation.

"Are you sure I shan't be in the way? Sure I'm not troubling you?"

Nevil smiled.

"By no means. Just let me have my dinner, and I'll be ready. I've half a
dozen cords of wood to haul into Beacon, and I have to go and borrow
ponies for the work. The roads are so bad just now that my own ponies
couldn't do it by themselves."

Rosebud's scruples thus being quieted she returned to her seat on the
bed, and they talked on while the man ate his dinner. She watched the
almost slavish devotion of Wanaha with interest and sympathy, but her
feelings were all for the tall, beautiful woman. For the man she had no
respect. She tolerated him because of her friend only.

An hour later they were on the Reservation. And they had come by way of
the ford. Rosebud was all interest, and everything else was forgotten,
even her dislike of Nevil, as they made their way past Little Black Fox's
house, and through the encampment of which it was the centre. She was
still more delighted when her companion paused and spoke to some of the
Indians idling about there. She was free to watch the squaws, and the
papooses she loved so well. The little savages were running wild about the
tepees, dodging amongst the trailers and poles, or frolicking with the
half-starved currish camp dogs. The air was busy with shrieks of delight,
and frequently through it all could be detected the note of small
ferocity, native to these little red-skinned creatures.

It was all so familiar to her, so homely, so different from that other
life she had just left. The past few months were utterly forgotten; she
was back in her old world again. Back in the only world she really knew
and loved.

It came as no sort of surprise to her, when, in the midst of this scene,
the great chief himself appeared. He came alone, without ceremony or
attendants. He stood in the midst of the clearing--tall, commanding, and
as handsome as ever. His dusky face was wreathed in a proud, half
disdainful smile. He did not attempt to draw near, and, except for a
haughty inclination of the head, made no sign.

Rosebud had no suspicion. She had no thought of the man with her. She was
far too interested in all she saw to wonder how the chief came to be in
the midst of the clearing just as she was passing through it.

On the far side of the camp a path led