When she rode along the path, approaching her home in the gathering twilight, she saw before the door a form lying in a limp heap, a sight that stilled her heartbeats and caused her to reel in her saddle with faintness. Nevertheless, she rode up to it, and, leaping down by it, discovered her father, dead. He had been killed and scalped; and on his breast, where the blue flannel shirt had been torn open, was that dreadful sight, the arrow of blood drawn with a scalping knife. The girl swooned at sight of it, and fell as if dead beside the dead body. How long she remained there unconscious she did not know. The stars were in the sky and the wind from the mountain was cold when she aroused and came back to a realization of the terrible thing that had befallen her father and herself. She threw herself on the inanimate form, and wept as if her eyes were oceans. By and by she struggled to her feet. Her first thought was of flight, for personal safety, and for help for her father, whose body needed to be protected from wolves and other wild beasts. But she discovered that she had not strength to go anywhere; and this, with thoughts of what might happen during her absence, held her to the dreadful spot. She crept at length to the cabin, where she procured a candle. With it she returned to her father’s body. Lighting the candle, she put it upright on the ground beside him, knowing that wolves and other wild animals fear such a light. Having done that, she returned to the cabin, this time thinking of finding her horse, which had strayed away, and of riding to the town with the news. But she swooned again as she crossed the threshold, and fell to the floor, where she lay a long while. This time when she recovered she crawled to the bed, and laid herself down on it. She slept, then; though how or why she did was afterward a puzzle to her. The sun was shining in through the open door when a voice, the voice of a man, aroused her. She got up, wild-eyed, her dress disheveled, her face tear-stained. The man was Pawnee Bill, whom she had seen and talked with in the town. He had ridden out, as he had promised, leaving the town long before dawn, and he had seen in the trail the dead body of John Forest, mute witness of the vengeance of Crazy Snake, the Blackfoot. The famous scout soon saw that the girl was on the verge of a collapse from hysteria and overwrought nerves. She screamed when she beheld him, ran toward him with outstretched hands, and in wild phrases began to tell him of what had occurred. “My dear girl,” he said, “you do not need to tell me, for I have seen. But let me urge you to try to control yourself. I shall escort you back to the town, and then----” “But my father!” she wailed hysterically. “All that can be done for him now will be done, let me assure you.”