trength; but on the other hand, could it
have been the miniature of Alice, which he felt pressing over his heart
once more, that afforded a subtle stimulus to both mind and body? They
flung miles behind them before day-dawn, Long-Hair leading, Beverley
pressing close at his heels. Most of the way led over flat prairies
covered with water, and they therefore left no track by which they
could be followed.

Late in the forenoon Long-Hair killed a deer at the edge of a wood.
Here they made a fire and cooked a supply which would last them for a
day or two, and then on they went again. But we cannot follow them step
by step. When Long-Hair at last took leave of Beverley, the occasion
had no ceremony. It was an abrupt, unemotional parting. The stalwart
Indian simply said in his own dialect, pointing westward:

"Go that way two days. You will find your friends."

Then, without another look or word, he turned about and stalked
eastward at a marvelously rapid gait. In his mind he had a good tale to
tell his warrior companions when he should find them again: how
Beverley escaped that night and how he followed him a long, long chase,
only to lose him at last under the very guns of the fort at Kaskaskia.
But before he reached his band an incident of some importance changed
his story to a considerable degree. It chanced that he came upon
Lieutenant Barlow, who, in pursuit of game, had lost his bearings and,
far from his companions, was beating around quite bewildered in a
watery solitude. Long-Hair promptly murdered the poor fellow and
scalped him with as little compunction as he would have skinned a
rabbit; for he had a clever scheme in his head, a very audacious and
outrageous scheme, by which he purposed to recoup, to some extent, the
damages sustained by letting Beverley go.

Therefore, when he rejoined his somewhat disheartened and demoralized
band he showed them the scalp and gave them an eloquent account of how
he tore it from Beverley's head after a long chase and a bloody hand to
hand fight. They listened, believed, and were satisfied.

CHAPTER XVI

FATHER BERET'S OLD BATTLE

The room in which Alice was now imprisoned formed part of the upper
story of a building erected by Hamilton in one of the four angles of
the stockade. It had no windows and but two oblong port-holes made to
accommodate a small swivel, which stood darkly scowling near the middle
of the floor. From one of these apertures Alice could see th