pan with the fish and turned her back upon him.
The Indian seized the bread, and, noting that he was unobserved, tore
it apart like a dog and ate ravenously, the fish likewise, ripping the
flesh off the bones and devouring it like some wild beast.

"There, now," she said, when he had finished, "you've had enough to keep
you going. Indeed, you have had all that's good for you. We don't want
any fever, so that will do."

Her gestures, if not her words, he understood, and again as he watched
her there gleamed in his eyes that dumb animal look of gratitude.

"Huh!" he grunted, slapping himself on the chest and arms. "Good! Me
strong! Me sleep." He lay back upon the ground and in half a dozen
breaths was dead asleep, leaving Mandy to her lonely watch in the
gathering gloom of the falling night.

The silence of the woods deepened into a stillness so profound that a
dead leaf, fluttering from its twig and rustling to the ground, made her
start in quick apprehension.

"What a fool I am!" she muttered angrily. She rose to pile wood upon the
fire. At her first movement the Indian was broad awake and half on his
knees with his knife gleaming in his hand. As his eyes fell upon the
girl at the fire, with a grunt, half of pain and half of contempt, he
sank back again upon the ground and was fast asleep before the fire was
mended, leaving Mandy once more to her lonely watch.

"I wish he would come," she muttered, peering into the darkening woods
about her. A long and distant howl seemed to reply to her remark.

It was answered by a series of short, sharp yelps nearer at hand.

"Coyote," she said disdainfully, for she had learned to despise the
cowardly prairie wolf.

But again that long distant howl. In spite of herself she shuddered.
That was no coyote, but a gray timber wolf.

"I wish Allan would come," she said again, thinking of wakening the
Indian. But her nurse's instincts forbade her breaking his heavy sleep.

"Poor boy, he needs the rest! I'll wait a while longer."

She took her ax and went bravely at some dead wood lying near, cutting
it for the fire. The Indian never made a sound. He lay dead in sleep.
She piled the wood on the fire till the flames leaped high, shining
ruddily upon the golden and yellow leaves of the surrounding trees.

But again that long-drawn howl, and quite near, pierced the silence
like the thrust of a spear. Before she was aware Mandy was on her feet,
determined to waken the sleeping Indi