face. Her smooth, vivid skin was nearer the hue of the sun-dark
Caucasian than of the red man, and lovelier than either, with grave,
vigilant eyes of dusk, a straight, small nose and firm, proud mouth
vividly scarlet like the wild flame in her cheeks.

Aloof, impassive, the Indian girl stared back.

"I wish well to the beautiful daughter of white men!" she said at
length with native dignity. The contralto of her voice was full and
rich and very musical, her English, deliberate and clear-cut.

Immensely relieved--for the keen glance of those dark Indian eyes had
suddenly softened--Diane leaped impetuously from her horse; across the
fire white girl and Indian maid clasped hands.

[Illustration: White girl and Indian maid then clasped hands.]

"Do forgive me!" she exclaimed warmly. "But I saw your fire and turned
this way before I really knew what I was doing." Just as Diane won the
confidence of every wild thing in the forest, so now with her winsome
grace and unaffected warmth, she won the Indian girl.

Some subtle, nameless sympathy of the forest leaped like a spark from
eye to eye--then with a slow, grave smile in which there was much less
reserve, the Seminole motioned her guest to a seat by the fire.

Nothing loath, Diane promptly tethered her horse and squatted Indian
fashion by the cartwheel fire, immensely thrilled and diverted by her
picturesque adventure.

"My name," she offered presently with her ready smile, "is Diane."

"Di-ane," said the Indian girl majestically. And added naively, "She
was the Roman goddess of light--and of hunting, is it not so?"

Diane looked very blank.

"Where in the world--" she stammered, staring, and colored.

The Indian girl smiled.

"From _so_ high," she said shyly, "I have been taught by Mic-co. Like
the white student of books, I know many curious things that he has
taught me."

"And your name?" asked Diane, heroically mastering her mystified
confusion. "May I--may I not know that too?"

"Shock-kil-law," came the ready reply.

"That readily becomes Keela!" exclaimed Diane smiling.

The girl nodded.

"So Mic-co has said. And so indeed he calls me."

"Tell me, Keela, what does it mean?"

"Red-winged blackbird," said Keela.

It was eminently fitting, thought Diane, and glanced at Keela's hair
and cheeks.

There was a wild duck roasting in the hub of coals--from the burning
spokes came the smell of cedar. The Indian girl majestically broke a
segme