“Buffalo Bill, dear old fellow, I remember now. Let us first bury poor Grace--yes, bury her forever from sight; but I forgave her ere she died, and she believed me when I said my hand was not stained with her father’s blood. There is a stain upon it, Buffalo Bill, but not of his life. Come, let us dig a grave,” and Red Hand arose to his feet. “The grave is dug,” said the scout. “See, all is in readiness over there.” “Thank you, my friend, for I would not have her rest side by side with Ben Talbot. Here is my blanket, and she shall have it for a shroud; poor, poor Grace!” Tenderly the graceful form was enveloped in the blanket of Red Hand, who then raised it in his arms and bore it to the newly made grave which Buffalo Bill had thoughtfully filled in with poles cut from a thicket near by, which served as a rude coffin. Into her last resting place the poor woman was lowered, and the blanket drawn over the beautiful, sad face upon which Red Hand gazed with a stern, hard look that proved how deeply he suffered. A few moments more and the soil was thrown in most tenderly by the scout, who seemed to feel to the very soul for the stricken man. Red Hand stood with uncovered head and folded arms gazing down upon the grave which held one that he had certainly loved most dearly in bygone years, and who had so strangely crossed his path in the wilds of the Black Hills--crossed his path to die by her own hand before his very face. “Buffalo Bill,” he said, when the grave had been filled in, “I have much to thank you for; but we must not linger here. Some day I will make known to you the story of my life, in all its cruelty and sorrow; but not now--no, not now.” “But, tell me, how was it I found you here?” Buffalo Bill asked. With an effort Red Hand seemed to bury his grief and assume his former manner. “Things began to look squally, pard, and I started over to your layout to look you up, when I ran across Lone Dick, the scout, and he told me you had struck out in this direction. So I put after you over the hills.” In a few more words Red Hand acquainted Buffalo Bill with all the discoveries he had made since coming to the Black Hills. “That we are going to have a hard time, Red Hand, is evident. My advice is for that other party to at once vacate their layout, and move bag and baggage to our stronghold, which we can hold against every Indian in these hills; yet to be on the safe side, I have a plan to save the women, and that is to bring them here.” “Here! How will that protect them?” “This is the Haunted Valley of the Black Hills. And no Indian of the Sioux tribe, or outlaw, either, will ever penetrate into these wilds.” “We know now how it was haunted and why,” said Red Hand sadly. “Yes, Red Hand, you and I know now, and we also know that this place will be sacred from intrusion. Here we will bring the women and children, and you and Lone Dick and Captain Ramsey and his son must be their guard.”