"God forgive me--no! It was all a trick--to test your courage--forgive me--to test--to test--oh! and I allowed you to kill them!" "Speak! Go on! What do you mean?" "They were our friends--not Indians! My dearest friends! Oh, how is it that I am not struck dead for this? Please heaven, let me die!" she wailed. "My God!" he exclaimed, after the first bewildering shock. "A trick--and I have killed--oh, it cannot be true!" He leaped to his feet, allowing her to fall from his side to the ground, where she lay, a wretched, shivering heap. With a ferocious oath he snatched the big sword from the ground and turned upon her, with eyes blazing, muscles quivering. She was looking up at him, those wide blue eyes gleaming piteously. "Kill me!" she murmured, and closed the eyes to await the stroke. His big arm relaxed, the sword fell from his nerveless grasp, clanging to the ground. When she reopened her eyes after an age of suspense she saw him leaning against the tree, his body shaking with sobs. A second glance and she started to her feet alarmed. His broad back was covered with blood. Near his left shoulder the clothing was torn and an ugly, gaping wound leered at her. "Oh," she gasped; "you--you are hurt!" "Hurt!" he groaned. "They have killed me! You have killed me--you and your friends. I hope you--are--satisfied--with--your--see?" As he sank to the ground, he pointed feebly to the cruel arrow which he had torn from his side. It lay not far away, grim and bloody. The horrified girl glanced at it helplessly and then at the unconscious man, unable to realise. Then she cried aloud in her agony and threw herself upon the prostrate form, moaning: "Dead! Dead! Speak to me, Ralph--look up! I love you--I worship you! You shall not leave me!" She kissed the pallid face, caressed the chilling head, sobbing: "Forgive me--forgive me!" An hour afterward the clatter of hoofs upon the road aroused her from the semi-conscious condition into which her grief had thrown her. Through the gathering darkness she saw horsemen approaching--Indian riders! A moment later they were dismounting at her side, and well-known voices were calling to her: "Are you hurt?" "What has happened?" "Killed? My God!" It was Farring, Trask and the other plotters, reeking with excitement. Their horses were wet from the fierceness with which they had been ridden. "Do not touch him! You have killed him!" she cried, striving to shield the body from Farring's anxious touch. "Killed him? Good God, Kate! where did you meet them!" cried Farring, as Trask pulled her from Studdiford's side. "Are you not dead?" she finally whispered to the men. "We? He killed three of them--split their heads! But the wretches put an arrow into him, after all. What a dreadful thing we have done! Fairly tricked him to his death!" cried poor Trask. "Then--then it was not you?" cried Kate.