ead surroundings
as to smile. I beg you to forgive me; it was not heartlessness, but
merely the way of a thoughtless girl, Monsieur."

It had been impossible for me to resist her cajolery from the
beginning; and now I read in her eyes the truth of all she spoke.

"There is naught for you to forgive, Mademoiselle," I answered, drawing
myself wholly within the tepee and resting on my knees. "But are you
quite alone here, and without guards?"

"For the present, yes. Little Sauk has been gone from the camp for
some hours. They watch me with some care at night,--yet of what use
can their guarding be? If I should get without the lodge, escape would
be hopeless for a girl like me. But now tell me about yourself. Are
you also prisoner to the Indians? Surely I saw you struck down in that
mad melee. 'Twas then I lost heart, and gave up every hope of rescue."

"No, I am not a prisoner, Mademoiselle. I fell, stunned by a blow
dealt me from behind, but was saved from capture by the falling of my
horse across my body. I am here now of my own will, and for no other
purpose than to save you."

"To save me! Oh, Monsieur! it would make me blush really to think I
ranked so high in your esteem. Was it not rather that other girl you
came to seek,--the one you sought so far through the wilderness, only
to find hidden in this encampment of savages? Tell me, Monsieur, was
she by any chance of fate the heroine who last night plucked Captain de
Croix from the flames of torture?"

"You know, then, of his danger and deliverance?" I said, not feeling
eager to answer her query. "'T was a most brave and womanly act."

"A strange exercise of power, indeed, Monsieur," and she looked
directly into my eyes; "and the savages tell me she claimed to have
knowledge of him."

Surely I had a right to relate the whole story of De Croix's
confession; yet somehow I did not deem it the manly thing to do.
Rather, I would let her learn the truth in God's own time, and from
other lips than mine. Perchance she would respect me more in the end
for keeping silence now. But in this decision I failed to consider
that hasty words of explanation might naturally lead her to believe the
existing friendship mine instead of his.

"We met her across the river in the darkness last night," I answered.
"At my request, she acted as my guide into the Indian camp."

The expression in her eyes puzzled me; nor could I interpret the sudden
flush that lent col