sses, the words "Papa!"

"My little Zoe"; the latter uttered in the voice of a man. Then
followed some explanations in a lower tone, which I could not hear.

A few minutes elapsed, and I lay silent and listening. Presently there
were footsteps in the hall. A boot, with its jingling rowels, struck
upon the tiled floor. The footsteps entered the room, and approached
the bed. I started, as I looked up. The Scalp-hunter was before me!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

SEGUIN.

"You are better; you will soon be well again. I am glad to see that you
recover."

He said this without offering his hand.

"I am indebted to you for my life. Is it not so?"

It is strange that I felt convinced of this the moment that I set my
eyes upon the man. I think such an idea crossed my mind before, after
awaking from my long dream. Had I encountered him in my struggles for
water, or had I dreamed it?

"Oh yes!" answered he, with a smile, "but you will remember that I had
something to do with your being exposed to the risk of losing it."

"Will you take this hand? Will you forgive me?"

After all, there is something selfish even in gratitude. How strangely
had it changed my feelings towards this man! I was begging the hand
which, but a few days before, in the pride of my morality, I had spurned
from me as a loathsome thing.

But there were other thoughts that influenced me. The man before me was
the husband of the lady; was the father of Zoe. His character, his
horrid calling, were forgotten; and the next moment our hands were
joined in the embrace of friendship.

"I have nothing to forgive. I honour the sentiment that induced you to
act as you did. This declaration may seem strange to you. From what
you knew of me, you acted rightly; but there may be a time, sir, when
you will know me better: when the deeds which you abhor may seem not
only pardonable, but justifiable. Enough of this at present. The
object of my being now at your bedside is to request that what you do
know of me be not uttered here."

His voice sank to a whisper as he said this, pointing at the same time
towards the door of the room.

"But how," I asked, wishing to draw his attention from this unpleasant
theme, "how came I into this house? It is yours, I perceive. How came
I here? Where did you find me?"

"In no very safe position," answered he, with a smile. "I can scarcely
claim the merit of saving you. Your noble horse you may thank for
t