n aiming at the
painted chest.

"Don't go for to try any sp'ilin' o' my game," warned Cousin without
looking at me.

"They're scouts from a big band of Shawnees now making toward Tygart's
Valley," I informed him. "Can't we learn something from them?"

"I'm going to kill this one now. The squaw can go. Crabtree would snuff
her out, but I ain't reached the p'int where I can do that yet."

"You coward!" cried the squaw in excellent English.

Cousin darted a puzzled glance at her. His victim seemed to be indifferent
to his fate; nor did the woman offer to interfere.

"She's a white woman!" I cried. For a sunbeam straggled through the growth
and rested on the long hair and revealed it to be fine and brown and never
to be mistaken for the coarse black locks of an Indian.

"White?" faltered Cousin, lowering his rifle. "Watch that devil, Morris!"

I dropped on a log with my rifle across my knees. Cousin strode to the
woman and caught her by the shoulder and pulled her to her feet. For a
long minute the two stared.

"Shelby?"

The words dropped from her lips in a sibilous crescendo as her blood drove
her to a display of emotion.

Cousin's hands slowly advanced and pushed back the long locks. He advanced
his face close to hers, and I knew his slight form was trembling. Then he
staggered back and jerkily brought his arm across his eyes.

"God! It's my sister!" I heard him mutter.

I leaped to my feet, crying out for him to be a man. He remained
motionless with his arm across his face, helpless to defend himself. I
turned to the woman. Whatever light had shone in her eyes when memory
forced his name from her lips had departed.

Her face was cold and immobile as she met my wild gaze. There was a streak
of yellow paint running from the bridge of her nose to the parting of her
brown hair. Her skin was as dark as any Shawnee's, but her eyes held the
blue of the cornflower.

I tried to discover points of resemblance between her and the boy and
succeeded only when she turned her head in profile; then they were very
much alike. He lowered his arm to look over it, and she watched him
without changing her expression.

With a hoarse cry he straightened and answering the impulse in his heart,
sprang toward her, his arms outstretched to enfold her. She gave ground,
not hastily as though wishing to avoid his embrace, but with a sinuous
twist of her lithe body, and she repulsed him by raising her hand. He
stared at her stupid