“There is your camp, Miss Fallon. It is a deserted village--the supply tepees, as I told you. Yonder you see your cabin, apart from them, and there you will be safe. I shall have a half-breed squaw, who once lived at the fort as an officer’s servant, remain there with you and do your cooking.” “And be my guard also?” “In a measure, yes, for she will keep the Indians away from you, and you do not need any other guard here, as you could not escape over yonder ridge, unless you have wings. “The squaw speaks English and has cooked for me when I have been here, for my own tepee is in the village. The cabin is furnished, as I told you, after a rude fashion, and you have your own satchel with clothing, so you will not be uncomfortable.” As they passed a large tepee the outlaw called out to an Indian woman who stood there to approach them. She did so, and Lucille noticed that her face was lighter than those about her, and she looked neat in her attire. “Yellow Bird, I wish you to get your traps and come on up to the cabin. You are to look after this captive of mine while she is here, and take good care of her.” The woman had glanced at Lucille as she came up, but that was all, and she replied, in fair English: “Yellow Bird will do as the white chief bids her.” Then they rode on, and soon halted before the cabin, which was built of hewn logs, with boards roughly sawed out of hewn timber serving as roofing. There was a porch along the front, and it was certainly a very fine cabin to find in an Indian village. The chief took a key from a hiding place, which he appeared to know of, and unlocked the door. There were four rooms in the cabin, and Lucille saw that it was furnished, though rudely, for the renegade had brought his belongings with him when he had fled from his own people. “You will be at home here, Miss Fallon.” “Yes, at home!” repeated Lucille, with sarcasm, to add quickly: “But it is so much better than I expected, you have treated me so much differently than I anticipated, that I thank you.” The moment that she was left alone by the outlaw, and she saw him and his braves ride away, Lucille Fallon yielded to the prerogative of a woman, and, seating herself in the cabin, burst into tears. “At home! Ah! if this were to be my home, I would rather that the grave should be,” she cried bitterly. She had totally forgotten about the Indian woman until she heard the gently uttered words: “Don’t cry, paleface.” She started to her feet, for she was too proud to wish any one to see her weeping. Before her stood Yellow Bird, the half-breed Indian woman. She had tidied herself up, and had a bundle under her arms. Her face was a good one, not cruel, and she said again: “Don’t cry, Yellow Bird be good to you.” Lucille stepped forward and grasped the woman’s hand. “You are good, I can see that. You have lived among the palefaces, the outlaw told me?”