, while a sweet voice sounded in his ear:

"I knows you w'en I hears you speak. You singed me to sleep. I tolt you
I'd be your Fairy."

"So you did, dear," said the boy, giving her a tender embrace; "and I
have done my best in the work of saving you from the Indians."

"Bad Injuns!" exclaimed Fay. "Dey tarry me off fwom my mamma. You tate
me to my mamma?"

"We will, dear."

Frank's hands found the wounded man, and he asked:

"Where did the bullet strike you, Hermit?"

"Here in the side," was the faint answer. "I think I am done for! I have
found death at last!"

The boy shivered, for the words were uttered exultantly, as if the man
actually rejoiced.

"Are you able to creep back farther into the cave?" Frank asked.

"I don't know. Why should I do so? It is too much exertion."

"If not for your own sake, you should do so for the child. Another
bullet may reach her."

The man stirred and sat up.

"That is true," he panted. "She must be returned uninjured, and Foster
Fairfax must know that I did my best to save her."

"Foster Fairfax! He is the man you saw this morning?"

"Yes."

"What is he to this child?"

"He is her father."

"And you--what are you to her?"

"Nothing."

Frank was somewhat dazed, for he had felt sure that the Hermit was Fay's
father.

"We were friends," explained the wounded man. "I can't tell all the
story. We both loved Marian Dale. Our rivalry was fair and square, and
we swore that the one who won her should still retain the friendship of
the other. At last, she promised to be mine at the end of six months.
Business took me into the Southwest, and there I met Fairfax, who had
rushed away as soon as he learned of my success. He was somewhat bitter
toward me, and accused me of using unfair means to win Marian. We
parted, and the very next day I was in a railroad collision, being
injured about the head, so I did not know my own name. I recovered, but
I was still unable to tell my name or remember anything of my past. In
this condition, I wandered over the country four years. I was able to
make a living, and seemed all right, with the exception that I could not
remember anything back of the accident. One night in Omaha I was in a
hotel fire, and I jumped from the window to escape. They took me up in
an unconscious condition, and carried me to a hospital. I recovered, and
my memory came back to me. Then I hurried East to Marian, and I found
her married to Foster Fairfax, who ha