for her own revolver, but it was not at her side.
Then she remembered that she had left it at the colonel's house when she
had started out that morning.

She eyed the Indian closely as he advanced farther into the room, and
saw that in the Indian's eyes there was a strange gleam. He reminded her
of a snake about to devour its prey, as he moved toward her, almost
imperceptibly, seeming not to move, and yet getting closer to her all
the time.

Now he was quite close to her, and Hallie Croffut was sitting back in
her chair gazing at the Indian with an expression of frozen horror on
her face.

"White squaw give Running Bear a kiss," gurgled the brute.

Stella tried to scream, but her throat refused to give forth a sound. It
was like the nightmare when one tries to scream for terror of the awful
shape that is about to menace, but cannot utter a sound.

Somewhere outside she heard her name. It was Ted calling to her, but she
could not answer.

Now the Indian was only a step away, and had reached out his arms to
grasp her.

Suddenly the door flew open, and there stood Ted Strong. But only for an
instant.

With one leap he was into the room, and as the Indian turned, with that
beastly leer still on his face, Ted was upon him.

Catching the Indian by the collar, he swung him around, while at the
same time his left arm flew forward, and his fist struck the Indian's
jaw with a smash that sent his head back, and wrung a groan from him.
Again and again the fist encountered the Indian's face, rocking his head
horribly, until it hung upon his shoulder, and then, with an exclamation
of disgust, Ted flung the brute from him, and the inert body rolled into
a corner, where it lay still.

"Oh, Ted," exclaimed Stella, "that Indian is Running Bear, with whom you
had trouble when putting the Whipple gang out of business."

"I know it, but I don't think he'll bother us any more. Come, girls,"
said Ted, "it's time to go out and see the beef issue. They're reading
the names now, and the bucks are assembling."

Outside a strange scene was being enacted. A clerk from the Indian
agent's office was sitting on top of the fence of the cattle corral
reading the names of the Indians from a large book.

"Na-to-no-mah, John Fisher!" called the clerk, and a middle-aged Indian
stepped forward listlessly and stood aside.

"The first name is his Indian or tribe name," explained Ted. "The name
John Fisher is the name given him in Washington,