a little food, and took it to the sick
man. But Norman would not touch it, pushing it aside with a faint
murmur of thanks.

Slowly the weary day wore out, succeeded by a more weary night to the
sufferer upon the couch. He was weakening fast, and this the Indians
knew. They could do nothing but keep the fires going, place hot cloths
from time to time to the sufferer's side, and offer him a little food.

Morning dawned cold and cheerless. Norman had slept but little, and
the pain in his side was more severe than ever. Often he turned his
eyes toward the door, as if expecting some one.

"Is Dane coming?" he would ask, and when the Indians shook their heads,
the light of hope would fade. But ere long he would rouse up again.
"Is Dane coming?" he would repeat. "I wonder what's keeping him. He
should be here by now."

The Indians sat upon the floor before the fire, awed and attentive.
They seldom spoke, and when they did, their voices were low. They knew
that the white man was sinking rapidly, and that the end was not far
away.

About the middle of the afternoon, while an intense silence reigned in
the cabin, a sound of voices was heard outside. Then the door was
thrust suddenly open, and Jean entered, her hood covered with snow, and
her cheeks aglow with health and animation. Following her was Dane,
who hesitated a little as he stepped inside the room. He was uncertain
what kind of a reception he would receive.

With a cry of joy Kitty sprang to her feet, rushed forward, and threw
her arms around the girl.

"Babby safe! Babby safe!" she murmured.

"Yes, Kitty, I am safe," Jean assured her, looking fondly upon the
faithful Indian.

Then before anything more could be said, Norman partly lifted himself
from the couch, and stared hard at the visitors.

"Come here, quick," he ordered in a hoarse, eager voice. "Is it true,
or am I only dreaming?"

Jean and Dane at once crossed the room, and knelt by the couch.
Impulsively the son caught his father's left hand in his and raised it
to his lips.

"It is no dream, father," he said. "I have come back, and Jean is with
me. Do you forgive me?"

Still somewhat uncertain, Norman lifted his right hand and touched his
son's face. Then he turned his eyes wonderingly toward the girl.

"Yes, yes," he said, "it is no dream. You are both here. Thank God,
you have come at last!"

"And you forgive me?" Dane again asked.

"Yes, yes. My heart forgave you long