so
fatally to you. Now a new mystery begins. Where is the girl?"

An examination of the glen told the trailer that several persons besides
the unfortunate guide had been there, and he was examining a track so
peculiar as to attract attention, when a noise greeted his ears.

Raising his head and looking over his shoulder, he saw standing not far
away the person of all others whom he would meet at that hour--Little
Moccasin.

There was a smile on her face as she came forward and submitted to the
kiss which he imprinted on her cheek.

"They have been talking hard of you, girl, in the camp over the river,"
Harvey said. "They accuse you of deserting them."

"Areotha go to follow him!" she said, and her glance wandered to the
dead man in the dewy grass. "But he eluded her, and for a long time she
saw him not."

"And too late you have found him. He is there."

"Areotha saw him fall with his face to the stars. He lay so still, and
never groaned in his throat."

The young scout looked into the fair face, flushed with triumph.

"Did you do it, girl?"

"Areotha shot him when he was taking the white girl through the forest."

Harvey Catlett started.

"Then you rescued Kate!" he cried.

The girl shook her head.

"White girl taken from Areotha," was her answer. "Will Fair Face
listen?"

"I will."

In simple language Little Moccasin detailed her trailing of John
Darknight and his captive through the forest, and how in the
hurricane-swept glen she had put an end to his crimes with a bullet.
Then, of course, followed the account of James Girty's interference, and
his subsequent flight with the settler's daughter.

The scout listened without interrupting her.

"The new trail begins here," he said, addressing the beautiful creature.
"There is a ball in my rifle that may rid the Northwest Territory of its
incarnate curse."

"No, no!" cried Little Moccasin, and her hand fell on his arm. "If Fair
Face kills the Whirlwind, he will never tell."

Catlett looked into the forest beauty's eyes as a puzzled expression
settled upon his face.

"Never--never tell!" repeated the girl, mystifying him the more.

"Never tell what, Moccasin?" exclaimed the scout, as he put his arm
about her and drew her near him.

"He knows Areotha's true father."

"No!"

"He said so last night in his own cabin door, and when he said he would
not tell, Areotha raised her rifle; but he told her to shoot, and never,
never know, and--she le