"But," warned the rain, "one must not forget. At Keela's teaching you have fallen into the soft, musical tongue of these Indian folk with marvelous ease. And you wear the Seminole dress of a chief--" "Yes. After all, that was imprudent--" "You can ride and shoot an arrow swift and far. Your eyes are keen and your tread lithe and soft like a fawn--" "It is all the wild lore of the woodland I learned as a child." "But Sho-caw does not know! To him the gypsy heart of you, the sun-brown skin and scarlet cheeks, the night-black hair beneath the turban, are but the lure and charm of an errant daughter of the O-kee-fee-ne-kee wilderness. What wonder that he can not see you as you are, a dark-eyed child of the race of white men!" "I do not wonder." "He has been grave and very deferential, gathered wood for you and carried water. Yesterday there was a freshly killed deer at the door of the wigwam. It is the first shy overture of the wooing Seminole." "I know. Keela has told me. It has all frightened me a little. I--I think I had better go away again." "There was a time, in the days of Arcadia, when Philip would have laughed, and a second deer would have lain at the door of your wig-wam--" "Philip is changed." "He is quieter--" "Yes." "A little sterner--" "Yes." "Like one perhaps who has abandoned a dream!" "I--do--not--know." "Why does he ride away for days with Sho-caw?" "I have wondered." The wind, wafting from the rain which splashed in the pool of Mic-co's court, might have told, but the wind, with the business of rain upon its mind, was reticent. "And Ronador?" "I have not forgotten." "He is waiting." "Yes. Day by day I have put off the thought of the inevitable reckoning. It is another reason why presently I must hurry away." "A singular trio of suitors!" sighed the rain. "A prince--an Indian warrior--and a spy!" "Not that!" cried the girl's heart. "No, no--not that!" "You breathed it but a minute ago!" "I know--" "And of the three, Sho-caw, bright copper though he is, is perhaps braver--" "No!" "Taller--" "He is not so tall as Philip." "To be sure Philip is brown and handsome and sturdy and very strong, but Ronador--ah!--there imperial distinction and poise are blended with as true a native grace as Sho-caw's--" "Humor and resource are better things." "Sho-caw's grace is not so heavy as Ronador's--and not so sprightly as Philip's--" "It may be." "One may tell much by the color and expression of a man's eye. Sho-caw's eyes are keen, alert and grave; Ronador's dark, compelling and very eloquent. What though there is a constant sense of suppression and smouldering fire and not quite so much directness as one might wish--" "Philip's eyes are calm and steady and very frank," said the girl, "and he is false." "Yes," said the rain with a noise like a shower of tears, "yes, he is very false."