it violent trembling, for his heart, like hers, was bounding.

"I must indeed have been delirious," he answered now, not laughing,
not even smiling. He had possessed himself of that other hand, despite
its fluttering effort. His voice was deep and grave and tremulous. "I
called you anything but what I most longed to call you--what I pray
God I may call you, Angela--my wife!"

L'ENVOI

There was a wedding at Sandy that winter when Pat Mullins took his
discharge, and his land warrant, and a claim up the Beaver, and Norah
Shaughnessy to wife. There was another, many a mile from Sandy, when
the May blossoms were showering in the orchard of a fair old homestead
in the distant East, and then Neil Blakely took his bride to see "the
land of the leal" after the little peep at the lands that now she
shared with him. There is one room in the beautiful old Colonial
mansion that they soon learned to call "father's," in anticipation of
the time when he should retire and come to hang the old saber on the
older mantel and spend his declining years with them. There is
another, sacred to Aunt Janet, where she was often welcomed, a woman
long since reconciled to Angela's once "obnoxious," but ever devoted
admirer. There were some points in which Aunt Janet suffered sore. She
had views of her own upon the rearing and management of children, and
these views she did at first oppose to those of Angela, but not for
long. In this, as in her choice of a husband, Angela had to read her
declaration of independence to the elder woman.

There is another room filled with relics of their frontier
days,--Indian weapons, blankets, beadwork,--and among these, in a
sort of shrine of its own, there hangs a portrait made by a famous
artist from a little tintype, taken by some wandering photographer
about the old Apache reservation. Wren wrote them, ere the regiment
left Arizona, that she who had been their rescuer, and then so long
disappeared, finally wedded a young brave of the Chiricahua band and
went with him to Mexico. That portrait is the only relic they have of
a never forgotten benefactress--Natzie, their Apache Princess.

THE END.

* * * * *

A DAUGHTER _of the_ SIOUX

By GENERAL CHARLES KING

A Tale of the Indian Frontier

Illustrations by Frederic Remington and Edwin Willard Deming

* * * * *

SOME PRESS NOTES

The Chicago Daily News

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