“Let’s look further,” quoth the general. “There may be other surprises. Any sign of the Indians about, Guerrier?” “No. Village deserted,” answered Guerrier. They emerged from the lodge, into the moonlight, and rummaged here and there. Guerrier disappeared again. “In my opinion,” remarked the general, “that half-breed knew of this all along. He was supposed to report to headquarters the first token that the village was being abandoned. Instead, he waited, to let the Indians clear out, then he reported. You know, his wife was in the village; and so he wanted to make her safe.” “Humph!” grunted the doctor and the lieutenant. The general went poking about; so did the others. One lodge did not have any fire; its interior was dark, when the general stuck his head in; and picking up a splinter of wood he lighted it, for a torch. Then in he boldly went—only to call back, handing the splinter forth again. “Light this, will you, doctor? It blew out on me.” The doctor hastened away, to light the splinter at a lodge fire, and Ned waited for him. The general must have been moving in the dark, inside, for Ned heard a quick exclamation from him, and he thought that next he caught a strange voice, addressing the general in Indian. It was a low, quavering voice; and he was not certain. He clutched his revolver, listening, poised for action. Nothing more was said beyond the lodge doorway; but the doctor seemed gone a very long time. At last here he came, bearing the light. “Is that you, doctor?” spoke the general, quickly. “Watch sharp, when you enter, and be ready for trouble. Cock your revolver. There’s an Indian in this place. I stepped on him, and I hear him.” Through the doorway burst the doughty doctor, torch in one hand, cocked revolver in the other. After him pressed Ned, revolver thrust forward, eyes wide, heart thumping, but resolved, he, to play the man. The general was standing at the far side, his hunting-knife bared—for in the dark his revolver would have been of little use. And there, between him and the door, was the Indian—but perhaps not an Indian. It was a little girl, lying wrapped in buffalo robe, on the floor. Ned stared, his breath short. For a moment he expected that he had found his sister! Then a second look told him that this little girl was black haired and swarthy skinned, not at all touching the fairness of Mary. So he relaxed, disappointed. “Aha!” quoth the general, “I see. We won’t hurt you, my girl. I guess she’s the more alarmed of the two. Where’s Guerrier? He ought to talk to her. Fetch Guerrier, Ned.” Forth hustled Ned, and found Guerrier. When they came back, the doctor was bending over the little girl, and petting her, while she continued to roll her shy eyes, much alarmed, and would have hid her head in her robe. “Deserted her, the cowardly ruffians,” denounced the general. “Ask her, Guerrier.” Guerrier spoke to her in Cheyenne; she softly answered.