follow Big White Chief," was the reply. "Curly track white man.
Bimeby Curly shoot."

"Oh! do you think so?" Glen clasped her hands before her, while her
eyes grew big with apprehension. "What can we do? I know. You go
after that man, and stop him. Never mind me, for I am all right.
Look," and she thrust her hand into the bosom of her riding-dress and
brought forth her revolver. "I can shoot and take care of myself. Go
at once and save daddy and Mr. Reynolds."

Sconda needed no second bidding, for he was anxious to be away. His
fears had vanished at the presence of the skulking enemy, and no matter
how he might tremble at the thought of unseen ghostly foes, he was
never known to flinch before the face of a living earthly being. Glen
knew that he was the finest trailsman in the north, and she felt more
satisfied as she watched him, rifle in hand, disappear amid the trees.

For some time she stood at the window, straining her eyes to see Sconda
reappear and cross the wild meadow. But she watched in vain, for the
native had taken another route, which, though rougher, was less exposed
to view.

Glen was about to turn away from the window, when, happening to glance
to her left, she saw someone coming from the lake toward the house.
She recognized him immediately. It was Curly! At first she imagined
that she must be dreaming, for was not Curly away on the trail of her
father and Reynolds? What did it all mean? Sconda must have been
mistaken, for there was the villain walking cautiously from the shore.
Intuitively Glen placed her hand to her heart, as if to stop its wild
beating, while she tried to think of some way of escape. What should
she do? Where could she go? she frantically asked herself. But she
must not remain there, for she was well aware of the purpose of Curly's
visit. He had planned a plot with the assistance of someone as vile as
himself, and had caught her in his trap. But he should not take her in
the house, and she knew it would be useless to fasten the door against
him. She would meet him in the open, and if it came to the worst she
knew what she could do. Her hand touched her heaving bosom where the
revolver was resting, and it somewhat calmed her fears, and inspired
her with courage.

Swiftly crossing the room, she reached the open door and stepped
outside just when Curly was but a few yards away. He stopped,
surprised at the girl's unexpected appearance. He noted her agitati