barracks for the
disreputable pirates of centuries ago. She ate with a healthy appetite,
and some half hour later quit the shadows of the gloomy fort for the
bright sunlight of a spring noon.

The hour of her departure was nearing, and Keeko glanced down at the
landing. Her canoes lay there at their moorings, but----

Her orders had been disobeyed! The canoes were deserted. Little One Man
was nowhere to be seen. Neither were the other boys. A quick frown of
displeasure darkened her pretty face, and she moved down to the water's
edge almost at a run.

But her journey was interrupted. It was the sound of a familiar, angry
voice, harsh, furious. It came from behind her, somewhere behind the
fort. The words were indistinguishable in their violence, but, as she
listened, there came another sound with which she was all too familiar.
It was the sickening flog of a rawhide quirt on a human body. It was her
step-father flogging an Indian, with all the brutality of his
ungovernable temper.

Keeko's eyes flashed in the direction of the canoes. Inspiration leapt.
Where were _her_ boys? They had no concern with the work of the fort.
They were _hers_. Something of the teachings and instincts of the life
she had learned stirred her to action. Light as a deer she ran to the
landing, and snatched up a rifle lying in one of the boats. It was the
instinct of self-preservation. But it was also an expression of her
determination to enforce her rights--if need be.

There was no hesitation. Keeko had learned so much in the past three
years. She knew the man who was her step-father. She knew his brutality
to Indians, and she suspected more. She hated the thought in her mind
now. She even feared it. But she was determined.

She was late by the seconds it had taken her to reach the spot. It was a
spot she knew well enough. A single tree standing by itself just behind
the fort. She found a group of Indians gathered about it looking on in
apparent indifference. Above their heads, in their midst, she beheld
the rise and fall of a heavy quirt.

Into the midst of this gathering she thrust her way. And, in a moment,
her worst suspicions were realized. Her boy, Snake Foot, was bound to
the tree-trunk. Bared to the waist, cowering but silent, he was
shrinking under the cruel blows of the quirt. Nicol, his dark eyes
blazing with a merciless fury, was flinging every ounce of his strength
into each blow of the terrible weapon in his hand. Keeko's h