for the remains of the outlaw, a shout was
raised by several of the party who dashed after something into a
neighbouring copse. An Indian had been discovered there, and the
cruelties which had been practised on the white man had, to a great
extent, transferred their wrath from the outlaw to his murderers. But
they found that the rush was needless, for the Indian who had been
observed was seated on the ground beside what appeared to be a newly
formed grave, and he made no attempt to escape.

He was a very old and feeble man, yet something of the fire of the
warrior gleamed from his sunken eyes as he stood up and tried to raise
his bent form into an attitude of proud defiance.

"Do you belong to the tribe that killed this white man?" said Hunky Ben,
whose knowledge of most of the Indian dialects rendered him the fitting
spokesman of the party.

"I do," answered the Indian in a stern yet quavering voice that seemed
very pitiful, for it was evident that the old man thought his last hour
had come, and that he had made up his mind to die as became a dauntless
Indian brave.

At that moment a little Indian girl, who had hitherto lain quite
concealed in the tangled grass, started up like a rabbit from its lair
and dashed into the thicket. Swiftly though the child ran, however, one
of the young men of the party was swifter. He sprang off in pursuit,
and in a few moments brought her back.

"Your tribe is not at war with the pale-faces," continued the scout,
taking no notice of this episode. "They have been needlessly cruel."

For some moments the old man gazed sternly at his questioner as if he
heard him not. Then the frown darkened, and, pointing to the grave at
his feet, he said--

"The white man was _more_ cruel."

"What had he done?" asked the scout.

But the old man would not reply. There came over his withered features
that stony stare of resolute contempt which he evidently intended to
maintain to the last in spite of torture and death.

"Better question the child," suggested Dick Darvall, who up to that
moment had been too much horrified by what he had witnessed to be able
to speak.

The scout looked at the child. She stood trembling beside her captor,
with evidences of intense terror on her dusky countenance, for she was
only too well accustomed to the cruelties practised by white men and red
on each other to have any hope either for the old man or herself.

"Poor thing!" said Hunky Ben, laying his