s morning before you came that there
was some excellent reason for his delay, and we'd know it within another
day."

"Oh, ah--er--of course I hope so. I think, pardon me, that that must be
a messenger from my office now," for spurred boot-heels were coming
briskly up the wooden walk. There was a bounding step on the piazza, a
ring at the bell. The servant bustled through the hall and threw open
the door. It was not a messenger from the depot, but a stalwart,
sunburnt man in rough ranch garb, who whipped off his broad-brimmed hat
and stood abashed within the hall as he asked for Mr. Folsom.

And all of a sudden over went the piano-stool with a crash, and out into
the hall, joyous, bounding, light as a fairy, a vision of dark, girlish
beauty, went Pappoose.

"Why, Ned Lannion!" she cried, as she seized the swarthy young fellow's
hands and shook them up and down "Don't you know me--Winona that used to
be? Why, how well you look! When did you leave the ranch? How did you
leave them? Is Hal here--or coming?"

And at sound of her voice old Folsom had started up from his sofa and
came trotting out into the hall, just roused from his sleep, and
blinking a bit as he, too, held forth cordial, welcoming hands. It was a
moment before they could let Ned tell his story, and then it came by
jerks.

"We left there early yesterday morning, mum. They're all well now, 'cept
Jake, and he'll come out all right, but we had a close call. A war party
of Sioux jumped as Wednesday afternoon, and they'd a got away with us
but for Lieutenant Dean and his troop. They come along just in time----"

"Ned!" gasped Elinor, "you don't mean they attacked the ranch?"

"No'me. We was down the Lar'mie--rounding up horses. There was a dozen
bucks in the party. It's the first time they've come across in a year
that I know of, and they won't be apt to try it again. We shot two of
'em and the cavalry drove 'em a running fight, so hard that they had to
leave one of their wounded behind them. He died in a minute. It
was--" and then Ned Lannion gulped and stumbled and choked in
embarrassment.

"Who was it?" demanded Mr. Folsom, his rugged face pale and twitching,
his eyes full of anxiety.

"Chaska, sir. _You_ know."

Folsom gripped him by the shoulder. "And Burning Star--did you see him?
Was he there?"

"Yes, sir; but those boys of Lieutenant Dean's gave them a lickin'
they'll never forget. The ranch is safe as if it was here in Gate City,
only Hal h