ill miss me from the farm, and then
there'll be a to-do, and he will come hunting for me. Lend me your
clothes, a blanket, and an Indian saddle. Quick, my Wana! you'll help me,
won't you? Oh, make haste and say, and set my doubts at rest!"

The tide of the girl's appeal had its effect. The squaw rose swiftly,
silently. She moved off and presently came back with a bundle of beaded
buckskin clothing.

"You wear these, they my own. I get him for you. See. You put on, I go get
saddle. The blanket here. So. Nevil, my Nevil, from home. Wana not know
where. But maybe he come quick an' find you an' then----"

Wana did not finish expressing her fears. She seemed suddenly to remember
of whom she was speaking, and that there was disloyalty in what she was
saying.

But Rosebud was paying little heed. She was already changing her clothes.
She knew the value of time just then, and she had been forced to waste
much already. While she was completing the transformation, the squaw went
out and changed her saddle and bridle for an Indian blanket and surcingle
with stirrups attached to it, and a plaited, gaudy rope bridle and spade
bit.

When she came back the white girl had completed her toilet, even to the
moccasins and buckskin chapps. Even the undemonstrative Wanaha exclaimed
at the metamorphosis.

She saw before her in the dim starlight the most delightful picture of a
squaw. Rosebud's wealth of golden hair was hidden beneath the folds of the
colored blanket, and only her fair white face with its dazzling eyes,
bright now with excitement, shone out and destroyed the illusion.

"You are much beautiful," the Indian declared in amazement. Then she stood
gazing until Rosebud's practical voice roused her.

"Food, my Wana."

"I give bread and meat. It in bags on the horse. So. Now you go?"

"Yes, dear Wana. I must go."

Rosebud reached her arms up to the tall woman's neck, and drawing her dark
face down to her own, kissed her. Though she loved this dark princess she
knew that her kiss was the kiss of Judas. Then she passed out, and,
mounting her horse, rode away.

Within five minutes of her going, and while Wanaha was still standing in
the doorway looking after her, a party of warriors, headed by Little Black
Fox himself, rode up to the house. The chief had come in search of Nevil
Steyne. He angrily demanded the white man's whereabouts of the woman who
was his sister.

The ensuing scene was one of ferocious rage on the part