"Heavens! Wetzel, you have wonderful eyes. I hope to God you are
right. There, I see the foremost rider waving his hand," cried Col.
Zane.

"Oh, Bessie, Bessie! I believe Lew is right. Look at Tige," said
Betty excitedly.

Everybody had forgotten the dog. He had come down the path with
Betty and had pressed close to her. First he trembled, then whined,
then with a loud bark he ran down the bank and dashed into the
water.

"Hel-lo, Betts," came the cry across the water. There was no
mistaking that clear voice. It was Isaac's.

Although the sun had long gone down behind the hills daylight
lingered. It was bright enough for the watchers to recognize Isaac
Zane. He sat high on his horse and in his hand he held the bridle of
a pony that was swimming beside him. The pony bore the slender
figure of a girl. She was bending forward and her hands were twisted
in the pony's mane.

By this time the Colonel and Jonathan were standing in the shallow
water waiting to grasp the reins and lead the horses up the steep
bank. Attracted by the unusual sight of a wildly gesticulating group
on the river bluff, the settlers from the Fort hurried down to the
scene of action. Capt. Boggs and Alfred Clarke joined the crowd. Old
Sam came running down from the barn. All were intensely excited and
Col. Zane and Jonathan reached for the bridles and led the horses up
the slippery incline.

"Eb, Jack, Silas, here I am alive and well," cried Isaac as he
leaped from his horse. "Betty, you darling, it's Isaac. Don't stand
staring as if I were a ghost."

Whereupon Betty ran to him, flung her arms around his neck and clung
to him. Isaac kissed her tenderly and disengaged himself from her
arms.

"You'll get all wet. Glad to see me? Well, I never had such a happy
moment in my life. Betty, I have brought you home one whom you must
love. This is Myeerah, your sister. She is wet and cold. Take her
home and make her warm and comfortable. You must forget all the
past, for Myeerah has saved me from the stake."

Betty had forgotten the other. At her brother's words she turned and
saw a slender form. Even the wet, mud-stained and ragged Indian
costume failed to hide the grace of that figure. She saw a beautiful
face, as white as her own, and dark eyes full of unshed tears.

"The Eagle is free," said the Indian girl in her low, musical voice.

"You have brought him home to us. Come," said Betty taking the hand
of the trembling maiden.

The settler