at arm's length flashed my electric torch
on it, again being careful to keep my face in shadow.

"You safe here," I said. "Tachachobee make this camp for you. Me and him
camp little way off. To-night me watch to see when him and Echochee
come. No one find you; you sleep well. Tachachobee good man; me and him
friends. You no be 'fraid."

"Thank you," she said wearily. Ah, how tired her voice did seem!

"There water; good to drink. You hungry?" I asked.

"No, thank you,--what is your name?"

This was a poser, for I had not thought up a name. But, of course, Jack
came first into my mind, so I answered:

"Jackachobee."

"No, thank you, Jackachobee," she said, "I'm not hungry."

"You want gun?" I asked again.

"I have one," she answered.

"Good. Then you sleep; no one find you here. In morning take time; when
ready for breakfast walk back this way a hundred steps and whistle like
plover. Then me come and show you way. Sleep good."

Thus, feeling very well satisfied with my Indian impersonation--which,
nevertheless, had its faults--I left her; turning and going to the fort,
there choosing a place where I could keep guard all night against
possible danger.

Long and earnestly did I listen for some sound of the chase, but the
night had grown absolutely still except for a soft breeze rustling the
palm fronds above my head and the prairie grass in front of me. Yet I
felt secure in the belief that Smilax had not been taken. Without
question, he and Echochee were still in flight, heading toward some safe
refuge; coaxing, by shot or cry, the furious pack that tore hopefully
after them. I knew that my vigil here was unnecessary--that with all
senses focused on the chase no straggler would by any chance be coming
this far out into the prairie--but I had told Sylvia it would be kept.

As I sat there, joyous over the conquest we had made, but more supremely
happy because she was safe and near me, thinking tumultuous things which
were a credit to mankind, hoping hopes that man has never realized, I
raised my face to the sky and thanked God.

Creature of incongruities! I thanked God for putting her safely into my
keeping, when my fingers had not yet been washed after their bath in a
fellow creature's blood! The cave man had gone abroad at dusk to find a
mate, and human pawns who stood in his way had been of no more
consequence than ants!

Thus it has always been for the women we love. Thus it should be.

CHAPTER