The performer bent upon her a long searching look, and enquired, "Are you Miss De Wolf?" "I am." The strange visitor immediately rose and approached the door. "There! stop; who are you?" demanded Little Wolf, vehemently. "Hush! I was going to bolt the door," and she deliberately turned the key in the lock. "I'm your friend, young lady, and I'm come to warn you of impending danger." Little Wolf slightly paled, but she stood firm awaiting further developments. "Too much time has been wasted already," she began, "Bloody Jim is here, at Chimney Rock, waiting for the first favorable moment to kidnap you, and murder your servants, and set fire to your home. He is now more daring and reckless than ever. Three times you have thwarted him, and he still carries the scars he has received at your hands. This is the day, and, for ought I know, the very hour, that he designs to fall upon you. It was to be when your father was helplessly intoxicated, and yourself entirely off your guard. I think he has two or three accomplices living in this place. I love Bloody Jim, steeped in crime as he is, and I beg of you, if it shall be possible for you to save yourself without taking his life, you will do so. I have now done all I can for you; good bye." "There, you shall not go," exclaimed Little Wolf, springing towards her, "you must stay and assist me." "I can do nothing more for you, Miss De Wolf, indeed, I cannot. I have told you all I know. My journey has been exceedingly painful and perilous, and I am completely exhausted. If I am discovered, I must inevitably lose my life. I do not dread death, but if alive, and you should be captured, I might possibly render you some assistance. Now you must not detain me." "Well, but who are you," persisted Little Wolf, "that you are able to give me all this information, and yet cannot give me any aid?" "I can, in all probability, aid you more by going than by remaining," said the other hurriedly. "My skin is stained, my clothes are stuffed to give me this fleshy appearance, but you will recognize me if we meet again. My name is Antoinette Le Claire. Now I _must_ go. The good Lord help you," and she waddled off, in precise imitation of a fat old squaw. "Now I must be brave," thought Little Wolf, pressing her hand on her brow, while she tried to think what plan to pursue. Her first thought was for her father's safety, who was, as usual, at the brewery, where he had gone soon after dinner, and as he had not been there long, she hoped he was not, as yet, intoxicated. Stepping to the door, she hailed daddy, who was busy storing away some vegetables in the cellar, for winter use. "See here, daddy, I want you to go down to the brewery as quick as you can, and tell father--well, tell him I'm sick, and want to see him right away." "'Tween you and me, honey,"-- "O, go, this minute, daddy," and she shut the door in his face, and proceeded to the kitchen, where she found mammy quietly smoking her pipe in the corner.