. That white man shot the grizzly from the
other side of Deep Gulch. He was way up on the hill, and he hit the
bear in the heart."

The Indian's eyes showed his astonishment as he studied the girl's face
as if to make sure that she was telling the truth.

"It is true, Sconda. I was there and saw him do it."

"What was bear doing?"

"Coming at me for all it was worth, and Midnight was almost frantic
with fright. If it hadn't been for that white man we would be down
there now where that grizzly is lying."

"And you want Sconda to fetch bear to camp, eh?"

"I do. Take as many men as you need and go in the morning. Tell the
women to be ready to prepare the meat. And, Sconda, I want you to look
after the dressing of the skin. Get Klota to do it. Tell her it is
for me, and she will understand. That is all, I guess."

Glen dismounted, and handed the reins to the Indian.

"Midnight is hungry, Sconda. Look after him yourself, and see that he
gets a good bite of grass. And, Sconda," she added, as if an
afterthought, "you will be sure to go with the men in the morning?"

"Ah, ah, Sconda will go."

"That's good. And I want you to do something for me. Keep a sharp
watch to see if that white man comes again to Deep Gulch. You will,
won't you?"

"Sconda will watch."

"But don't let him think you are watching, remember. You stay behind
when the others have brought the bear home. But don't let the white
man see you."

Into Sconda's eyes flashed an expression of understanding. He knew now
what the girl meant. What would he not do for her? the white girl he
had known since she was but a child, and whose word to him was law, not
of force but of affection.

"Now, don't forget, Sconda," Glen warned. "Stay there, if necessary,
until night, and watch him carefully from the top of Crooked Trail.
And don't tell anybody, not even Klota. Her eyes and ears are sharp,
and she might suspect something. This is the greatest secret I have
ever had. You have never failed me yet, Sconda, and I know that I can
trust you now."

CHAPTER XIII

WHEN THE STORM BURST

Glen West Lodge, the name of this fine building on the shore of that
inland lake, was a comfortable and cozy abode. The rooms were not
large, but their furnishings and decorations showed the artistic taste
of the owner. The pictures adorning the walls had evidently been
chosen with careful discrimination, most of them representing nature
scenes