oorway less than forty-eight hours before. But here was
something that transcended all that I had previously seen in her.
Perhaps the young sun, golden in the morning atmosphere, cast the spell
as it sought out spun-copper strands amongst her waves of hair; perhaps
the days of anxiety, terminating in a night of unfearful sleep, had put
the dew, the mystery, in her eyes; or it may have been the color,
smouldering beneath the attractive tan on her cheeks and tinting her
pure throat, that held me charmed; or the indefinable spirit of wildness
that showed through a natural poise. I saw, too, in a hazy kind of way,
a most bewitching costume--at least, admirably suited to her: a waist of
olive-drab, not unlike our service shirts but of delicate material, open
at the throat and fitting her snugly; quite a short skirt to match, and
laced tan boots.

"Please don't shoot," I said, trying to smile.

"Where is Jackachobee?" she demanded.

"I'm Jackachobee."

"But you're not an Indian!"

"No, but I really am the friend Tachachobee told you of."

I could see that she was growing more alarmed, and now spoke frankly,
saying:

"I pretended to be a Seminole last night because explanations would have
taken time; and I thought, too, that you'd feel safer with a good Indian
because he's easier to boss than a white man."

Her eyes narrowed, subtly suggesting that she might take this as a
challenge. At last, having looked me over--but not once removing her
hand from the revolver butt--she said, with a little pucker between her
eyebrows:

"I've seen you somewhere. Were you ever in our--in that place over
there?"

Now, of course, I could hardly expect her to see a resemblance between a
chap wearing breeches and puttees in a Florida wilderness and the
dinner-jacketed yachtsman who dined near her table off yonder in Havana.
It would be asking a great deal--although I did feel disappointed.

"No," I answered, "I haven't been in that settlement; but I watched it
from a hiding place all of day before yesterday. You see, I've come two
hundred miles to take you away from it."

"You've come to--to take _me_?" she slowly asked, and I thought the
color began to smoulder again; while from her eyes flashed a look that
might have been a struggle between gratitude, resentment and fear.
Wanting only the first to prevail I continued hastily:

"Yes; I followed ever since you wrote that you were in danger, and I've
sworn not to return to my yach