w, thorny brush, which, as she came to
it, caught her skirt, and forced her to draw rein, and stoop to release
it.

While thus occupied her broncho threw up his head and gave a tremendous
neigh. The sound startled her, as these things will startle the strongest
when all is profoundly silent. But what followed was more startling still.
Not one, but half a dozen echoes at least responded, and, with a thrill,
the girl sat up. The next moment she had spurred her horse and charged,
regardless of the thorns, into the midst of the clearing.

As she came a wave of horror swept over her. Simultaneous with her entry a
mounted Indian appeared from the opposite side. Others appeared, each from
a different direction, silent, but with automatic precision. To her right
she saw them; to her left; and behind her, too. A deliberate ring of
silent sentries had formed themselves about her, almost in the twinkling
of an eye.

The girl's first terror was almost overwhelming, and her impulse was to
shriek aloud. But the shock of that ghostly appearance passed, not because
the danger appeared to lessen, but because her nerves were healthy, and
she somehow possessed sympathy with the red men. Mechanically she
noticed, too, that they were blanketed, as in peace. They had donned no
feathers or paint. Nor could she see aught of any firearms. So her courage
returned, but she did not attempt to move or speak.

She was not long left in doubt. With crude, dramatic effect Little Black
Fox suddenly appeared from the adjacent woods. He rode into the ring on
his black pony, sitting the sleek beast in that haughty manner which is
given to the Indian alone, and which comes from the fact that he uses no
saddle, and sits with the natural pose of a lithe figure that is always
carried erect.

He wore no blanket. He was clad from head to foot resplendent in beaded
buckskin, his long black hair flowing beneath his crown of feathers and
falling upon his shoulders. His handsome face was unscarred by any
barbaric markings such as many of his warriors displayed. He was fresh and
young; his eyes were flashing with deep emotion, and lit up his dusky
countenance with a smile that had nothing gentle in it. He was every inch
a chief. Nor was there any mistaking the barbaric lover that looked out of
his eyes.

Rosebud unconsciously drew herself up. There was no responsive smile upon
her face. She knew there was mischief looming, and the woman in her was
stirred to t