e paralyzed, while Black Hawk in a
fury trampled their assailant under his feet. She saw Hank's ghastly
face and flaxen ringlets go down, and she saw his life blood spurting
far over the pure white snow, and the next instant she was borne
swiftly away from the terrible scene.

For some little time Black Hawk had it all his own way, and they were
far out on the main traveled road to Pendleton before Little Wolf made
an effort to check his speed. But suddenly she drew the rein with no
gentle hand.

They had overtaken a lady and gentleman, who were riding leisurely,
evidently quite absorbed in each other's society. One quick, searching
glance revealed the parties to Little Wolf; and she curled her lip in
scorn, as she saw those attentions which Edward had so lately lavished
upon herself, now given to Clara Hastings.

Well might Edward start and strain his eyes after the retreating
figure to which the loud clatter of hoofs had called his attention,
for fleeing fast away was one in whose true heart, he had planted
still another arrow, which would there rankle long, spite of the vow
of eternal forgetfulness even then upon her proud lips.

In order to avoid "The Pass," and its horrors, Little Wolf took a
circuitous route home. She emerged from the wild, unbroken path
through the forest just as Wycoff was begining to feel seriously
uneasy at her prolonged absence.

He eagerly caught at the bridle, "I was afraid Black Hawk had been
playing pranks," he said, patting the animal's neck: "Why, here's
blood upon the beast; I guess he's got rubbed agin a tree. It wan't
exactly safe to come that way, anyhow, but girls will be girls,
there's a natural tendancy in 'em to go into crooked ways," and Wycoff
laughed, as he thought that he had perpetrated a good joke, and looked
at Little Wolf as if he expected her too appreciate it.

"It is Mr. Glutter's blood," gasped Little Wolf, "he attempted to stop
us in the Pass, and Black Hawk trampled upon him."

"Oh! that's it, eh?" said Wycoff. "A knowing critter, that. He's got
the instincts of a woman, and I ain't sure but he knows as much as a
man. Well, I hope Hank is dead, anyhow."

"Oh, don't say so, Mr. Wycoff," said Little Wolf, every particle of
color forsaking her face.

"Well, now if I ain't beat," said the rough man, "I thought you would
be tickled to dance on Hank's grave."

Little Wolf turned silently away and went into the house.

"Well, well," and Wycoff bent a look of