“Speak again, for your voice is as sweet as the murmur of the brook in summer, as sweet as the trilling of the birds, and your face as lovely as the mountain flowers that seem timid, just like you.” Lucille listened with rapt attention to the words of the strange young chief, for he spoke with a softness of tone, a respectful look, and with words that fell strangely from the lips of an Indian, and were in strong contrast to the hideously painted death face with which he had ornamented his countenance. As though he feared he should not talk to the captive longer, Death Face said: “I will go now, but I came to see if I could help you, if I could make you more comfortable. “This was my home once, and I am glad to have you here. “Do you see those graves under the ridge yonder?--they are buried there, those I loved, and I put white crosses above their graves, and cut their names on them with my knife.” “You can read, then?” “Oh, yes, and write. You will find books in the cabin to read. Don’t feel bad, for you shall not be harmed, for Death Face says so. I will come again.” He wheeled his horse and rode rapidly away, leaving Lucille wondering at her strange Indian acquaintance. Walking over to the graves under the ridge, Lucille saw that there were four of them, all marked by rude wooden crosses, but it was too dark to see the names, and she hastened back to the cabin, where Yellow Bird had her supper ready. It was a tempting repast, and eaten with real relish, Lucille talking the while to the squaw and asking her about the young chief, Death Face. Yellow Bird had little more to tell her than what she had already known, or would not tell her more. She did not say that all the maidens in the village were in love with the young chief, but that he seemed to care for none of them. The firelight was the only light they had in the cabin, and Lucille asked the woman to bring in wood enough to burn all night. This Yellow Bird did, and then the captive spread some bedding, put the serapes the chief had given her over them, and retired for the night, bolting the doors firmly. Yellow Bird spread her bed in front of the fire, and the two were soon fast asleep. When Lucille awoke the next morning she found Yellow Bird was getting breakfast, and the squaw told her that the young chief had been there early and left bear and other robes for her, dressed deerskins, and plenty of game and fish which he had shot and caught. The outlaw came after breakfast and asked her how she was, and then said: “There is a hammock in this house, Death Face told me, so I will swing it on the porch for you.” The hammock was found, swung, and then the outlaw said: “I have brought you pen, ink, and paper, Miss Fallon, and I wish you to write a letter to your father.