shining with happiness,
and tears were streaming down the wrinkled cheeks.

Squaw Charley, too, was overcome. His black eyes were no longer sad and
lowered. They glowed softly, almost adoringly, as he watched his friend.

"David Bond had not forgotten you, Charles," the old man said, as he
clucked to the white horse. "I was at Dodge City--that wickedest town of
the plains--when news came of the capture of your village. At once I
started, for I knew that my duty lay here, here with your poor people,
who will not realise how foolish and puny is their warfare. I did not
come alone," he added, casting a look behind; "a white man accompanied
me--a man so full of evil and blasphemy that I quake for the safety of
his miserable soul. He has walked most of the distance, for he is
warmer walking, and there are scarce enough quilts for two."

They looked back. A mile to the rear, trailed a solitary man.

Squaw Charley made a quick, questioning sign.

"His name is Matthews," replied David Bond; "and his mission, I fear, is
a bad one. All the way he has urged my poor Shadrach on and on, so that
we have hardly had time to rest and eat. And all the day, as he rides or
tramps, he mutters to himself. When I ask him what he is saying, he
replies, 'You'll find out quick enough!' and curses more vilely than
before."

The pung was now opposite the stockade. Looking across the river, David
Bond got his first view of the high-walled prison with its ever-moving
and wary guards.

He pulled up his horse. "Alas!" he exclaimed mournfully, "how misguided
they are--white and red men alike!"

The pung slid on until the cut in the river-bank was reached. Again the
old man reined. "I cannot cross the river while the ice is so smooth.
Shadrach could not keep his feet. And I will not leave him behind. But
where can I stop on this side?"

Glancing to the left, he saw the line of saloons. "There, Charles," he
said. "I shall drive there and ask for shelter."

He turned the white horse into the cut. As they approached the shanties,
a woman's voice was heard, raised in ribald song.

"God sends David Bond whither he is most needed," the old man murmured
fervently.

A shingle sign was nailed over the door of the first building. On it, in
bold, uneven letters, were the words: _The Trooper's Delight_. David
Bond climbed down and knocked.

There was a moment of dead silence within; then, sounds as if several
persons were moving about on tiptoe; ag