the
carving had never been made by Indians. It was far too fine.

She was so intent on opening this box that she did not hear a stealthy
noise just outside her tent.

The lid of the sandalwood chest slid gently off. Inside, Olive beheld
some trinkets, which she knew in a moment of swift rapture, must belong
to her. One was a curiously wrought old silver chain, with a beautiful
cross hanging from it. A watch, large enough to belong to a man, had a
girl's picture painted in it which made Olive catch her breath. The
picture she knew looked like her, only it was far lovelier. This girl
had the same brilliant yet soft black eyes, the same straight, glossy
hair and the deep, olive coloring. She was not an American, but Olive
knew there was no trace of Indian blood in this woman. Whatever Indian
blood ran in Olive's veins, she guessed she must have inherited from her
father. Beside the watch and chain, the carved box held but one more
treasure. It was a little book about four inches square, written in a
language that Olive could not understand.

The noise at the tent opening grew more distinct. Some one was peering
through a tiny opening, yet Olive seemed to have neither eyes nor ears.
Her face was flushed with happiness and she held the odd, sweet-smelling
box close against her cheek.

Someone entered the tent. At last Olive awakened and springing to her
feet, thrust her treasures inside her dress. With her eyes flaming, she
turned to face her enemy; for Olive had not lived all her life among
nearly savage people without learning something from them. She meant to
fight now to save her possessions, as a real Indian girl would have
fought to the last moment of her strength.

But instead of the ugly face of old Laska staring at her, Olive saw the
slight figure of Carlos, the Indian boy.

Olive held out her treasures eagerly. "Look what I have found," she
exclaimed. "I know they must be mine."

The Indian boy regarded the pieces of jewelry gravely. To him they
appeared like any other trinkets that the Indians loved.

"I have come to tell you how you may return to your white friends,"
Carlos announced proudly. "I told you that a man would find a way. It is
only women who give up."

Olive shook her lovely head, her thoughts still dwelling with her
discovery. She did not understand exactly what the Indian lad said.

He caught at her dress and pulled it impatiently. "Listen, woman. I have
found a way for you to get back