had passed, and during that time, Dr. DeWolf had entirely
recovered his health. Prime Hawley was up and doing, following with
renewed vigor his former pursuits; threats and entreaties had wrung
from him a half-hearted confession, but, out of pity for his wife, the
affair was hushed up, and he was saved from merited punishment.

Bloody Jim had not been seen or heard of, and he alone carried the
secret of Hank Glutter's criminal designs.

Edward Sherman had become an almost daily visitor at Dr. DeWolf's, and
while his friend Dr. Goodrich was establishing himself in his
profession at Pendleton, he was gradually gaining a more certain hold,
on the affections of Little Wolf.

Our heroine was still, to all appearance, the same little bundle of
contradictions that she had always been.

"There, I'm always sure to do the very thing I say I will not do," she
said to herself half pettishly, as she opened her piano with a jerk,
and ran her fingers carelessly, over the keys, one fine October day.

Very soon she was quite absorbed, in practicing a difficult piece of
music, which her lover had, heretofore, recommended in vain.

"O, Miss DeWolf, there's a squaw here that wants to see you," said
Sorrel Top, bursting suddenly into the room.

"O, she's begging, no doubt. Give her what she wants, Sorrel Top, I'm
engaged just now," and Little Wolf went on with her music.

"There, I told you so. I knowed Miss DeWolf wouldn't have nothing to
do with squaws, or injins, nor nothing else that's low," exclaimed
Sorrel Top, loud enough to be heard by her young mistress, who always
made it a point to do the very thing it was expected she would not do.

The dumpy little copper-colored creature, enveloped in an Indian
blanket, before whom Sorrel Top had drawn herself up with a triumphant
toss of the head, was just making a second plea, when Little Wolf made
her appearance.

"I want to hear music, do tell the lady I want to hear music," she
said in very good English.

"O, if that's what you want, come this way," said Little Wolf, leading
on to the parlor.

The Indian followed, pattering along in her soft moccasins, leaving
Sorrel Top quite crest fallen.

"Now here is where the music comes from," said Little Wolf, placing
her hand upon the instrument, and following her piece of information
with a lively air.

"Now, how do you like that?"

"It is very pretty; may I try to make music?"

"Certainly," said Little Wolf, vacating her sea