wear the Seminole dress of a chief--"

"Yes. After all, that was imprudent--"

"You can ride and shoot an arrow swift and far. Your eyes are keen and
your tread lithe and soft like a fawn--"

"It is all the wild lore of the woodland I learned as a child."

"But Sho-caw does not know! To him the gypsy heart of you, the
sun-brown skin and scarlet cheeks, the night-black hair beneath the
turban, are but the lure and charm of an errant daughter of the
O-kee-fee-ne-kee wilderness. What wonder that he can not see you as
you are, a dark-eyed child of the race of white men!"

"I do not wonder."

"He has been grave and very deferential, gathered wood for you and
carried water. Yesterday there was a freshly killed deer at the door
of the wigwam. It is the first shy overture of the wooing Seminole."

"I know. Keela has told me. It has all frightened me a little. I--I
think I had better go away again."

"There was a time, in the days of Arcadia, when Philip would have
laughed, and a second deer would have lain at the door of your
wig-wam--"

"Philip is changed."

"He is quieter--"

"Yes."

"A little sterner--"

"Yes."

"Like one perhaps who has abandoned a dream!"

"I--do--not--know."

"Why does he ride away for days with Sho-caw?"

"I have wondered."

The wind, wafting from the rain which splashed in the pool of Mic-co's
court, might have told, but the wind, with the business of rain upon
its mind, was reticent.

"And Ronador?"

"I have not forgotten."

"He is waiting."

"Yes. Day by day I have put off the thought of the inevitable
reckoning. It is another reason why presently I must hurry away."

"A singular trio of suitors!" sighed the rain. "A prince--an Indian
warrior--and a spy!"

"Not that!" cried the girl's heart. "No, no--not that!"

"You breathed it but a minute ago!"

"I know--"

"And of the three, Sho-caw, bright copper though he is, is perhaps
braver--"

"No!"

"Taller--"

"He is not so tall as Philip."

"To be sure Philip is brown and handsome and sturdy and very strong,
but Ronador--ah!--there imperial distinction and poise are blended with
as true a native grace as Sho-caw's--"

"Humor and resource are better things."

"Sho-caw's grace is not so heavy as Ronador's--and not so sprightly as
Philip's--"

"It may be."

"One may tell much by the color and expression of a man's eye.
Sho-caw's eyes are keen, alert and grave; Ronador's dark, compelling
and v