aw Charley's hunger had disappeared before the enforced, and
rather nervous, generosity of Colonel Cummings' black cook, and
Lieutenant Fraser had left him, he hurried away from headquarters.
Making his way to the sentry line north of Brannon, he gathered firewood
along the Missouri until dark.

* * * * *

The lantern had been out for an hour in the cottonwood shack. Father and
daughters were asleep. But, at the end of that time, Dallas was suddenly
awakened by the sound of loud stamping and rending in the lean-to. Ben
and Betty, roused by the fear of something, were plunging and pulling
back on their halter-ropes. Startled, her heart beating wildly, the
elder girl crept softly to the warped door.

Her father and sister still slept, undisturbed by the noise in the
stable, which now quieted as abruptly as it had begun. Dallas heard the
team begin to feed again. And from outside the shack there came only a
faint rustle. Was it the uncovered meadow-grass of the eaves as the wind
brushed gently through it? Or the whisper of moccasins on snow?

* * * * *

Later, when The Squaw entered the sliding panel of the stockade, he
crept noiselessly toward the shingle roof. But he was not to gain it
unseen. Afraid-of-a-Fawn, who had been looking about for him, hailed him
savagely as he neared.

"Wood for the morning fire," she demanded.

By the light streaming out of a near-by lodge she saw that Squaw Charley
was looking at her defiantly. She set upon him, cursing and kicking, and
drove him before her to the shelter.

"The pig!" she cried. "Running free since the sun was at the centre of
the sky, and yet not a stick! May a thousand devils take the coward! He
quakes like an aspen!"

Squaw Charley was indeed trembling, but only with the cold, and soon,
under the shingle roof, the snuggling dogs would warm him. Blows and
abuse counted nothing this night. He was fed; freedom was his; and he
had paid a debt of gratitude.

CHAPTER VI

FROM DODGE CITY

"Dad, what's the day after to-morrow?"

Evan Lancaster pursed out his mouth and thoughtfully contemplated his
elder daughter.

"Ah c'd figger it out," he declared after a puzzled silence, "ef Ah had
th' almanac." He hunted about, found the pamphlet and began to study the
December page. "Trouble is," he said at last, "Ah don' know no day t'
figger fr'm--Ah los' track 'way back yonder at th' fore part o' th'