e!"

"You must hev a derned bad liver, or somethin' o' ther sort," sneered
Old Rocks. "I don't understand a critter like you none whatever."

"I do not expect you to understand me. You do not know my story. If I
were to tell you----"

"We ain't got time ter listen; but I'll tell you a leetle story. You
know ther babby-gal whut yer saw at our camp?"

The hermit bowed, and then, as if a suspicion of the truth had flashed
over him, he fiercely grasped the guide with both hands, hoarsely
demanding:

"Has anything happened to her? Tell me--tell me quick!"

With a few well-chosen words, Old Rocks told exactly what had happened.
The hermit seemed overcome with horror and dismay.

"She must be saved!"

"You're right; but how wuz we ter foller ther red varmints 'thout a
canoe. Now they hev got clean away."

"I will find her!" cried the hermit, with one hand uplifted, as if
registering a vow. "I will find her and restore her to--hold! How did
she happen to be with you?"

A further explanation was in order. Frank told how Fay had appeared in
time to save himself and Barney from being attacked by Half Hand and the
Blackfeet, what she had told them, how they had taken her to the camp,
and how Old Rocks had agreed to find her mother with the coming of
another day.

The guide and the boy believed the Hermit must be little Fay's father,
and they watched him closely as he listened. When Frank had finished,
the strange man eagerly asked:

"Her name--her full name--did you learn it?"

"No. She told us her name was Fay, and that her mother sometimes called
her Fairy Fay; but we were unable to learn her last name."

"From whut we saw in ther camp, we allowed as how it wuz likely you hed
seen ther babby afore, an' you knowed her proper name," insinuated Old
Rocks.

The Hermit did not answer the implied question.

"Come," he said, "follow me. I have a canoe."

"I s'pose we can't do any wuss," mumbled Old Rocks; "though I don't
prezactly know how we're goin' ter trail them critters through ther
warter."

The Hermit moved along at a swinging stride, and they followed him
through the morning twilight.

Less than half a mile had been covered when the man in advance suddenly
paused, uttering an exclamation of surprise.

Straight ahead, amid the trees of a little grove on the shore, they
beheld the snowy outlines of a tent.

In a little park beyond the camp could be seen the dusky outlines of
horses feeding. Close to th