For several days life on the trail was monotonous. Whenever Ted could be spared from the herd he and Stella and Hallie Croffut, and sometimes Ben or Kit, took long rides off the trail with their rifles, after a pronghorn or black-tail deer, and frequently they had venison for supper. The life was most fascinating to Hallie, who enjoyed every minute of it, and had seemingly forgotten the unpleasant features of her start with the party. Singing Bird rode in the wagon, with Mrs. Graham, waiting on that lady in the capacity of maid. Stella had undertaken to teach her the duty of maid, and the girl soon did for Mrs. Graham what had taken a great deal of Stella's time. The Indian girl was devoted to Stella, and whenever she was near, followed the pretty white girl with eyes in which shone devotion and affection. She had made herself so useful, and was so self-effacing that every one wondered how they had ever been able to get along without her. Stella had conceived a real affection for her, she was so gentle and sweet of manner. They had long talks together in the evenings, sitting away from the fire, the Indian girl telling her white friend all about the life led by the Indians, their wrongs at the hands of the white men, their religious beliefs, their songs, and their folklore. And, more important than all, she taught Stella the language of the Blackfeet and the Sioux. Stella was a good scholar, and it was surprising how rapidly she picked up the Indian tongues. Later she was to feel gratitude to the Indian girl for this knowledge. For several days Stella had noticed that Singing Bird was uneasy and apparently unhappy, and it worried her. She spoke to Ted about it, and he was of the opinion that the Indian girl was getting homesick, that her wild nature was asserting itself, and that she was experiencing a longing to be among her own people again, and free from the conventions of civilized life. Stella did not think so, and determined to speak to Singing Bird about it at the first good opportunity. One day the chance came as they were walking together in a wood near which they had camped. "What is the matter with you, sister?" asked Stella kindly. "Is it that you are not satisfied with our ways, and that you want to leave us?" Singing Bird looked at her with troubled eyes, in which the tears soon began to well up. "My sister knows that I love her," she said, "and that I would not leave her unless she wishes me to." She looked at Stella inquiringly. "No, I want you to stay. But if you are troubled, you must tell me as one sister would tell another." "I will tell you," said the Indian girl simply, "and I would have told you long ago, only that I did not want to trouble you, nor make trouble for any one else in the camp." "What do you mean by making trouble for any one else in the camp?" "I mean that the new man who drives the cows is a bad man. Beware of him." "You mean the man called Woofer?"