“You will be all right, for I will take you up into the village of the old chief, Iron Eyes, and there is a good cabin there which no Indian will live in. It was built by a renegade white man who fled with his family to the Indians and was adopted into the tribe. The man, his wife and the children died off, and their cabin still remains there in good condition, furnished as they left it, for they brought all their furniture with them in their flight.” “I shall appreciate being separated from the Indians at least.” “Oh, yes, you will be free from them, for the tepees nearest the cabin are not occupied, but all used to store pelts, food, and the hundred and one things an Indian snakes in. It is, in fact, the store village, and the nearest living tepee to you is that of the young chief, Death Face, and you can trust him, for he is of a most chivalrous nature. “The other Indians will not go near you, I’ll see to that, so you will be alone; but that will not mean that you will have a chance to escape, as that would be impossible for a man to do, let alone a girl.” Lucille made no reply, and the chief did not again break the silence until they had climbed the mountain range by a most dangerous path. The outlaw halted as he neared the top of the range, having asked Lucille not to look behind her until he told her to do so, as he did not wish to spoil her view. She wheeled her horse and glanced behind her, and an exclamation of delight burst from her lips. Long she gazed in perfect rapture, and forgetful of herself, as she beheld miles of mountain, valley, and plain scenery. “That little grove there shall be your noonday camping place, directly upon the summit of the mountain, so that you can see in every direction,” said the chief. “Down on the other side, a few hundred yards, is a plateau, a valley in the mountaintop, with a stream running through it, and there we shall go on and halt, for there is good grass for the horses. When you get tired of the view come to where we are, and dinner will be ready.” Reaching the little grove of pines, Lucille again cried out in admiration, for before her now was a still grander view. Flowing through a vast valley, was a large river. “Do you see yonder mountains, miles below the river?” “Yes.” “It is there that the Indian village is, and that will be the end of our trail. “Just there, where you see a bald hill by the river, is where we will cross by a ford but very few know of, for none of my Indians know of it, and it is one no one could find, save by accident, as I did by seeing a herd of deer take to the water and swim across.