by I might
communicate with Mademoiselle. Would the strange woman forget me now,
or would she venture upon a return with her message? If not, I must
grope forward without her, hampered as I should be by this unnerved and
helpless Frenchman. Outside, the noise had almost wholly ceased,--at
least, close to where we were,--and I could perceive that a slight
tinge of returning day was already in the air, faintly revealing the
interior of the lodge.

As I sat thus, drifting through inaction into a more despairing mood,
the rear covering of the tepee moved almost imperceptibly, and I turned
hastily to seek the cause, my heart in my throat lest it prove an
enemy, perhaps some stealthy savage still seeking the life of De Croix.
It was far from being light as yet, but there was sufficient to show me
the faint outline of a woman's figure. The Frenchman had seemingly
heard nothing; and I rose quickly and faced her eagerly.

"You have found her?" I questioned anxiously. "I beg you tell me that
she yet lives!"

"Hush! you speak too loud," was the low reply. "The one you seek is, I
think, confined within the lodge of Little Sauk, and thus far remains
unharmed. I have not been able to reach her, but she has been
described to me as young, with dark hair and eyes, and as having been
dragged from a horse near the rear of the column. Think you she is the
one you seek?"

"I do indeed!" I cried, in a rapture of relief. "Where is this lodge
in which they hold her?"

She hesitated to answer, as if she somewhat doubted my discretion.

"It is the third from the fire, in the row west of this," she said at
last. "But it is already daylight, and you must lie hidden amid these
skins until another night, when I will strive to aid you. You will be
safe here, if you only keep hidden; and I have brought with me food for
you both."

I had quite forgotten De Croix, in my eagerness to learn news of
Mademoiselle; but now I realized he had risen to his knees, and was
gazing at our visitor through the dim shadows as if half fearful even
yet that she was but a spectre. In that gray dawn his face was ghastly
in its whiteness,--the dark lines under his eyes, his matted hair, and
the traces of blood upon his cheek, yielding a haggardness almost
appalling.

"Marie!" he sobbed, catching his breath between the words as if they
choked him, "Marie, in God's name, speak one word to me!"

I saw the girl start, looking around at him with eyes wi