ors' desperate
feint. Seth had him marked down. He was the man of all whom he had looked
for. But the aim had to be careful, for he was carrying a something that
looked like woman's clothes in his arms, and, besides, this man must not
go free. Seth was very deliberate at all times; now he was particularly
so. And when the puff of smoke passed from the muzzle of his rifle it was
to be seen that the would-be fugitive had fallen, and his horse had gone
on riderless.

Now the few remaining braves broke and fled, but there was no escape for
them. They had defeated their own purpose by approaching too close. Not
one was left to join the retreating band. It was a desperate slaughter.

The fight was done. Seth left his cover, and, followed by the sheriff,
went across to where the former's victim had fallen.

"Good," exclaimed Somers, as they came up. "It is Big Wolf---- What?" He
broke off and dropped to his knees.

But Seth was before him. The latter had dragged the body of the great
chief to one side, and revealed, to the sheriff's astonished eyes, the
dainty clothing, and what looked like the dead form of a white girl child.
They both held the same thought, but Somers was the first to put it into
words.

"Tain't Jason's. They're all grown up," he said.

Seth was looking down at the child's beautiful pale face. His eyes took in
the thick, fair ringlets of flowing hair all matted with blood. He noted
even the texture of the clothes. And, suddenly stooping, he gathered her
into his arms.

"She's mine now," he said. Then his thoughtful, dark eyes took on their
slow smile again. "And she ain't dead, though pretty nigh, I'm thinking."

"How'd you know?" asked Somers curiously.

"Can't say. I've jest a notion that aways."

The others came up, but not another word passed Seth's lips. He walked off
in the direction of the track where the engine was standing at the head of
its trucks. And by the time he reached his destination he was quite
weighted down, for this prize of his was no infant but a girl of some
years. He laid her tenderly in the cab of the engine, and quickly
discovered a nasty scalp wound on the back of her head. Just for a moment
he conceived it to be the result of his own shot, then he realized that
the injury was not of such recent infliction. Nevertheless it was the work
of a bullet; which discovery brought forth a flow of scathing invective
upon the head of the author of the outrage.

With that care wh