a slayer of women. It is said that he has refuge in thy lodges."

The Indian's dirty face gave no sign of any resentment. "There is no
such man in my lodges."

"But I have heard there is, a man who is the son of thy sister, with a
white father."

The old Indian looked as if considering the matter for a moment, then
he said slowly. "My sister's son was here, but he departed four days
ago."

"Whither went he?"

The Indian waved his hand northward. "Towards the Great Barrens. He
took with him all our dogs."

"Done!" said the policeman with a quick glance at Stane. "It is certain
there are no dogs here, or we should have heard or seen them."

He turned to the Indian again, whilst Stane looked at Helen. "You heard
that, Miss Yardely? Our exile is not yet over."

"Apparently not," agreed Helen smilingly.

Stane again gave his attention to the conversation between his friend
and the Indian, but half a minute later, happening to glance at the
girl, he surprised a look of intense interest on her face. She was
looking towards a tepee that stood a little apart from the rest, and
wondering what it was that interested her, Stane asked, "What is it,
Miss Yardely? You seem to have found something very interesting."

Helen laughed a little confusedly. "It was only a girl's face at a
tent-door. I was wondering whether the curiosity of my sex would bring
her into the open or not."

Stane himself glanced at the tepee in question, the moose-hide flap of
which was down. Apparently the girl inside had overcome her curiosity,
and preferred the warmth of the tepee to the external cold. He grew
absorbed in the conversation again, but Helen still watched the tepee;
for the face she had seen was that of Miskodeed, and she knew that the
thought she had entertained as to the identity of the woman of mystery,
who had fled from the neighbourhood of the cabin, was the right one.
Presently a mittened hand drew aside the tent-flap ever so small a way;
and Helen smiled to herself.

Though she could see nothing through the tiny aperture so made, she
knew, as certainly as if she herself had been standing in the tepee,
that Miskodeed was watching them with interested eyes. Unconsciously
she drew herself upright, and flashed a challenging glance towards the
invisible spectator, visioning the Indian girl's wild beauty and
matching it, as a jealous woman will, against her own. Not till Stane
addressed her did she take her eyes from the tepee.