not think it worth while to remind the
invalid that not one of his bones had been broken, but she assiduously
set herself to work to meet his accumulating wants. With liniments and
bandages, and cooling drinks, and consoling words, she stood patiently
over him, until near the midnight hour, he fell asleep.

Shading the lamp, so that scarcely a ray of light was visible, Little
Wolf curled in behind the window curtain, where she could peep
through the crevices of the blinds out on the distant stars and ever
shifting clouds, which in the solitude of the night, speak so
eloquently to the human heart.

Calm and cold was the still hour. The warm, thawing winds had ceased
to blow, the eaves had ceased their droppings and were beautifully
fringed with icicles. The snow had become crusted over, but so
slightly, indeed, that the lightest footfall would crush the
treacherous coating, and the cracking of the icy fragments betray the
presence of prowlers.

By such sounds as we have described, Little Wolf's meditations were at
length disturbed. Indistinctly at first, but soon with unmistakable
clearness, she recognized approaching footsteps.

Daddy's room overlooked the stable, and in that quarter, a human
figure was just visible. Slowly and stealthily it drew near; and now
with dilated eyes and quickly beating heart, the watcher peered
eagerly into the darkness. Nearer, and still nearer the form
approached, until close against the house, just where she could
conveniently note every motion, it paused. A moment of suspense, and a
small flame shot up revealing Hank Glutter in the act of firing the
house.

Quick as thought Little Wolf sprang for her pistol, which to gratify
Daddy she had stored in his room; and hiding it in the folds of her
dress she flew to meet the incendiary.

During the few seconds consumed in reaching the spot, Hank had
disappeared, and having strong suspicions that he meditated mischief
to Black Hawk, Little Wolf scattered the pile of slowly burning
faggots, (the fire not having yet communicated itself to the
building), and made a dash for the stable.

Hank was there just in the act of lighting a match. He had completely
surrounded Black Hawk with hay and straw, and, in an instant more, the
helpless animal would have been enveloped in flames.

"Mr. Glutter, the brewery is on fire!" shouted Little Wolf
breathlessly.

The match fell from Hank's nerveless hand, for he saw through the
wide open door that