You must keep yer peepers open, an' ef you see ther
skunks is goin' ter do fer me, jest open up on 'em. I reckon you kin
shoot some?"

"Yes."

"Take good keer not ter bore me."

"I will."

"But, ef yer start, pump ther lead ter ther critters ter beat ther Ole
Nick."

"I will do it."

"Make sure whar ye're puttin' yer bullets, fer ye don't want ter kill
ther leetle gal."

"You may depend on me."

"While you're slingin' lead I'll try ter git ther gal an' git erway with
her."

"Won't we get into trouble if I should kill one of these Indians?"

"How?"

"Why, the Blackfeet are peaceable, and it may create a disturbance. We
may be hauled over the coals."

"Haul an' be derned! Ther onery varmints hev kidnaped a white gal, an'
they're poachin' on forbidden territory, besides bein' off ther
reservation. Ef they try ter kill me, it will be a case o' self-defence.
I'll allow as how we kin defend ourselves. You do ez I say, an we'll
come out all right, dog my cats ef we don't!"

"All right."

"But don't shoot 'less yer hev ter, remember thet."

"I will remember it."

"Ef I hedn't seen ther b'ar, an' seen hwar yer putt five bullets inter
him inside ther space uv a silver dollar, I might be skerry 'bout
lettin' yer shoot inter thet camp while I wuz thar; but I'll admit ez
how I reckon ye kin shoot."

They now crept forward till they were within easy shooting distance of
the camp, and then Rocks paused once more, putting his lips close to
Frank's ear, and whispering:

"See them rocks down thar?"

The boy nodded.

"Wa-al, jest you creep down behind them an' take yer position ready ter
sling lead."

"What are you going to do?"

"Git inter ther camp. I'm goin' ter walk in from t'other side, so
they'll be lookin' fer any further danger frum thet quarter. Don't git
impatient, fer it'll take me some time ter git round thar. Wait easy."

"I'll wait."

Then the old man crept away into the darkness, and Frank began working
his way down to the rocks.

He finally reached the position, and there he waited, being able to look
into the camp and see every figure revealed by the flaring fire.

The little girl was there, exhausted by the day of hardships, sleeping
soundly. One of the Indians had thrown a greasy blanket over her, so she
was protected from the night air, which is always chilly in Yellowstone
Park.

Frank's heart throbbed with sympathy as he gazed down on her.

"Poor little Fairy!" he thought. "H