a log,
and, drawing the little one to him, gazed at him as though he were
unreal, and might at any moment vanish as mysteriously as he had come.

But the child evidently had neither the time nor the inclination for
explanations. He gravely repelled all the lad's friendly advances, and
turned to go away, as though confidently expecting him to follow. As
Phil hesitated for a moment he looked back, and in a voice that had a
slight tremble, together with a lower lip that quivered just a little,
he repeated:

"Come. Mamma say come."

And Phil, picking up his rifle, followed after the unique little figure
like one who is dazed. A happy smile lighted the child's face at this
compliance with his wish, and after that he plodded sturdily onward
without turning his head, as though satisfied that his mission was
accomplished. After thus going something less than a quarter of a mile,
they emerged from the forest, and came to a log cabin standing on the
bank of a small stream.

Though fairly well built, this cabin did not differ in outward
appearance from ordinary structures of its kind in that country, save
that its single glass window was hung with white curtains. These caught
Phil's eye at once, but ere he had time to speculate concerning them his
little guide had reached the door. Slipping off the small snow-shoes he
pushed it open and entered. Phil followed, but had not taken a single
step into the interior ere he started back in dismay.

On the floor close beside the threshold lay an Indian--a tall handsome
fellow, but with a terrible gash in one side. From it his life's blood
had evidently drained some time before, for it needed but a glance to
show that he was dead.

From this startling sight the lad's gaze wandered across the room. It
caught the white curtains, a few poor attempts at ornamentation of the
walls, an empty hearth, on which was no spark of fire, and then rested
on a rude bed in one corner, to which the child had just run with a
joyful cry.

On the bed lay a woman, and, to Phil's utter amazement, she was a white
woman, who was feebly speaking to him in English. Her bloodless face,
terribly emaciated, was surrounded by a wealth of dark brown hair, and
her great eyes were fixed on him with a pitiful eagerness.

"Thank God! thank God, sir!" she said, in a voice so near a whisper that
Phil was obliged to bend his head to catch the words. "Now that you've
come, I can die in peace, for my Nel-te will be care