“My dear girl, I beg you to lower that pretty toy, for I mean you no harm.” Struck with his splendid appearance, and feeling that from a paleface she had nothing to fear, Pearl partially lowered the weapon, and then said: “Why are you here in these hills, sir?” “I came for pleasure, and yet I dreamed not of beholding here one so beautiful,” gallantly replied the stranger, stepping a pace nearer to her. “Who are you, sir?” again queried Pearl, interested in spite of herself in the man. “I am called Kansas King.” Instantly Pearl sprang back, and like a flash her rifle covered the heart of the outlaw chief. Without the quiver of a muscle Kansas King looked at the girl who so threateningly held him at disadvantage, and his voice was unmoved as he asked: “Why does my name thus offend you?” “You are a vile murderer,” she said, “and have laid waste the homes of your own people and the villages of the red men in wanton destruction; you are a white robber, sir.” Pearl’s eyes flashed fire, for often had the Indian runners brought news to her father of the ruthless acts of Kansas King and his band. “You paint my character in harsh tones,” was the answer. “But, at any rate, I mean you no harm, but come here to see an old hermit, one who has lived for years in the Black Hills and is a medicine man or chief of the Sioux under White Slayer.” He was looking at her earnestly. “Do you know anything of such a man, for I take it you are some waif of an Indian camp?” Pearl half lowered her rifle. “If you refer to the man who is known as Gray Chief, he is my father.” “Your father! Then, indeed, he is a fortunate man. Were I the kin of one so lovely I would indeed be happy.” Pearl made no reply, for compliments she was unused to, and Kansas King continued: “Will you guide me to your father, for I would speak with him upon a matter of interest to both of us?” Without reply Pearl drew a small revolver from her belt and fired it three times in rapid succession, the ringing reports rattling like a volley of musketry along the cañon. “Ha! Would you call aid?” cried Kansas King quickly, and his dark eyes flashed fire. “I have simply called my father; he will soon be here, sir.” Still maintaining her position of defense, Pearl now replied to the question addressed her by the outlaw chief, until the sound of running feet was heard. The next moment up dashed the hermit and White Slayer, their rifles ready in hand. At the sight of Kansas King the two halted. Seeing that their action was hostile, the outlaw cried, speaking in the Sioux tongue: “Hold, chiefs! I sought you here, and this girl was kind enough to call you to me.” “Who are you?” cried the old hermit in English, his eyes glaring savagely upon the young man. The latter answered bitterly: “I am an outlaw; one branded with a curse; men call me Kansas King.” “You are the outlaw chief, then? What brings you here into these hills?” “Mutual interest to you and me.”