ayer she had breathed had been answered. She
thought of Neale. She would live for him; she would pray and fight off
harm; she would find him if he could not find her. And lying there bound
and helpless in an Indian camp, captive of the relentless Sioux, for all
she knew in peril of death, with the roar of wind and rain around her,
and the darkness like pitch, she yet felt her pulses throb and thrill
and her spirit soar at remembrance of the man she loved. In the end she
would find Neale; and it was with his name trembling on her lips that
she fell asleep.

More than once during the night she awoke in the pitchy darkness to hear
the wind blow and the rain roar. The dawn broke cold and gray, and the
storm gradually diminished. Allie lay alone for hours, beginning to
suffer by reason of her bonds and cramped limbs. The longer she was left
alone the more hopeful her case seemed.

In the afternoon she was visited by the squaw, released and fed as
before. Allie made signs that she wanted to have her feet free, so that
she could get up and move about. The squaw complied with her wishes.
Allie could scarcely stand; she felt dizzy; a burning, aching sensation
filled her limbs.

Presently the old woman led her out. Allie saw a great number of tents,
many horses and squaws and children, but few braves. The encampment lay
in a wide valley, similar to all the valleys of that country, except
that it was larger. A stream in flood swept yellow and noisy along the
edge of the encampment. The children ran at sight of Allie, and the
women stared. It was easy to see that they disapproved of her. The few
braves looked at her with dark, steady, unfathomable eyes. The camp
appeared rich in color--in horses and trappings; evidently this tribe
was not poor. Allie saw utensils, blankets, clothing--many things never
made by Indians.

She was led to a big lodge with a tent adjoining. Inside an old Indian
brave, grizzled and shrunken, smoked before a fire; and as Allie was
pushed into the tent a young Indian squaw appeared. She was small,
with handsome, scornful face and dark, proud eyes, gorgeously clad in
elaborate beaded and fringed buckskin--evidently an Indian princess or
a chief's wife. She threw Allie a venomous glance as she went out. Allie
heard the old squaw's grunting voice, and the young one's quick and
passionate answers.

There was nothing for Allie to do but await developments. She rested,
rubbing her sore wrists and ankles, th