m. This Indian Long-Hair
showed a gratitude that could overcome his strongest passion. You white
men should be ashamed to fall below his standard."

Her words went home. It was as if the beauty of her face, the magnetism
of her lissome and symmetrical form, the sweet fire of her eyes and the
passionate appeal of her voice gave what she said a new and
irresistible force of truth. When she spoke of Beverley's love for her,
and declared her love for him, there was not a manly heart in all the
garrison that did not suddenly beat quicker and feel a strange, sweet
waft of tenderness. A mother, somewhere, a wife, a daughter, a sister,
a sweetheart, called through that voice of absolute womanhood.

"Beverley, what can I do?" muttered Clark, his bronze face as pale as
it could possibly become.

"Do!" thundered Beverley, "do! you cannot murder that man. Hamilton is
the man you should shoot! He offered large rewards, he inflamed the
passions and fed the love of rum and the cupidity of poor wild men like
the one standing yonder. Yet you take him prisoner and treat him with
distinguished consideration. Hamilton offered a large sum for me taken
alive, a smaller one for my scalp. Long-Hair saved me. You let Hamilton
stand yonder in perfect safety while you shoot the Indian. Shame on
you, Colonel Clark! shame on you, if you do it."

Alice stood looking at the stalwart commander while Beverley was
pouring forth his torrent of scathing reference to Hamilton, and she
quickly saw that Clark was moved. The moment was ripe for the finishing
stroke. They say it is genius that avails itself of opportunity.
Beverley knew the fight was won when he saw what followed. Alice
suddenly left Long-Hair and ran to Colonel Clark, who felt her warm,
strong arms loop round him for a single point of time never to be
effaced from his memory; then he saw her kneeling at his feet, her
hands upstretched, her face a glorious prayer, while she pleaded the
Indian's cause and won it.

Doubtless, while we all rather feel that Clark was weak to be thus
swayed by a girl, we cannot quite blame him. Alice's flag was over him;
he had heard her history from Beverley's cunning lips; he actually
believed that Hamilton was the real culprit, and besides he felt not a
little nauseated with executing Indians. A good excuse to have an end
of it all did not go begging.

But Long-Hair was barely gone over the horizon from the fort, as free
and as villainous a savage as ever