morning," suggested one of his comrades
encouragingly, as he passed him the precious bottle.

Bloody Jim took it, put it to his lips, drained it dry, and handed it
back.

This was too much for his already half drunk consoler; he angrily
flung the empty bottle into Bloody Jim's face, and in retaliation
received in a twinkling his death stab.

Half breed No. 3 observed the transaction with evident satisfaction.
He applauded the murderer and cajoled him into furnishing from, the
bowels of his knapsack a fresh supply of the poisonous liquor.

After gratifying their rum appetite to the full, the athletic men
gradually became as helpless as infants, and, sinking on the ground as
the darkness gathered around them, they fell into heavy sleep.

In about an hour Little Wolf partially recovered, but, supposing
herself to be closely guarded, and still suffering from extreme
lassitude, she closed her eyes, and gradually fell into profound
slumber.

The hours glided on. The waning moon looked sadly in through the
branches of the old oaks upon the sleepers. There lay the murdered man
with his upturned, ghastly face; scattered near him were the fragments
of the broken bottle. Yet a little further on were the prostrate forms
of his guilty fellows, and still beyond reclined the innocent one.

There was a rustling among the leaves and light footsteps drew near,
and Antoinette Le Clare gazed upon the scene. She was still habited in
her Indian costume. Softly approaching Little Wolf she as softly awoke
her.

Little Wolf looked up wildly into the dark face that bent over her and
recognized it in a moment. Antoinette silently assisted her to rise,
undid her fetters, and taking her hand, noiselessly led her from the
spot.

The staggering gait of her companion disclosed to Antoinette her
extreme weakness hoping to revive her drooping energies she whispered
"Courage a little longer, Miss de Wolf, and you are safe."

"I've courage enough to put an end to them," said Little Wolf, with a
momentary flash of her wonted spirit, "but I'm so dizzy."

"Well, rest here while I bring my pony."

"No, I'll go with you," and by an act of the will Little Wolf forced
herself along until they reached the shaggy little Indian pony on the
glade.

This they both mounted, Little Wolf still struggling bravely with her
increasing illness. But it was all in vain; a violent fever was
seizing upon her. She was alternately distressed with hot flashes and