A faint smile came over the girl's face. "I should know papa among fifty thousand, if necessary;" she said, "although I have not seen him for years." She failed to mention how many, or what peculiarities she would recognize him by. Was he blind, deaf or dumb? Fearless Frank glanced around him, and saw that a path rugged and steep led up to the prairie above. "Come," he said, offering his arm, "we will get up to the plains and go." "Where to?" asked Miss Terry, rising with an effort. The welts across her back were swollen and painful. "Deadwood is my destination. I can deviate my course, however, if it will accommodate you." "Oh! no; you must not inconvenience yourself on my account. I am of little or no consequence, you know." She leaned upon his arm, and they ascended the path to the plain above. Frank's horse was grazing near by where the scarlet youth had taken his unceremonious tumble. Off to the north-west a cloud of dust rose heavenward, and he rightly conjectured that it hid from view the chieftain, Sitting Bull, and his warriors. His thoughts reverting to his companion, "General" Nix, and the train of Charity Joe, he glanced toward where he had last seen them. Neither were to be seen, now. Probably Nix had rejoined the train, and it was out of eye-shot behind a swell in the plains. "Were you looking for some one?" Alice asked, looking into her rescuer's face. "Yes, I was with a train when I first heard your cries; I left the boys, and came to investigate. I guess they have gone on without me." "How mean of them! Will we have to make the journey to the Hills alone?" "Yes, unless we should providentially fall in with a train or be overtaken by a stage." "Are you not afraid?" "My cognomen is Fearless Frank, lady; you can draw conclusions from that." He went and caught the horse, arranged a blanket in the saddle so that she could ride side-fashion, and assisted her to mount. The sun was touching the lips of the horizon with a golden kiss; more time than Frank had supposed' had elapsed since he left the train. Far off toward the east shadows were hugging close behind the last lingering rays of sunlight; a couple of coyotes were sneaking into view a few rods away; birds were winging homeward; a perfume-laden breeze swept down from the Black Hills, and fanned the pink cheeks of Alice Terry into a vivid glow. "We cannot go far," said Frank, thoughtfully, "before darkness will overtake us. Perhaps we had better remain in the canal, here, where there is both grass and water. In the morning we will take a fresh start." The plan was adopted; they camped in the break, or "canal," near where Alice had been tortured. Out of his saddle-bags Frank brought forth crackers, biscuit and dried venison; these, with clear sparkling water from the spring in the chaparral, made a meal good enough for anybody. The night was warm; no fire was needed.