The sound of approaching horses and their riders’ voices came to her ears. The delay of indecision, whether to flee to camp, or whether to conceal herself in the near-by thicket, made either impossible, for already directly in front of her came two horsemen, and she knew that she had been seen. Turning her back toward the approach, and concealing her face in a fold of the blanket, she stood aside, hoping that they might pass without giving her any especial attention. One had passed, and peeping from her cover she saw that he wore the Indian police uniform. A soft chuckle reached her ear, and she knew that he knew he saw a masquerader. But her heart stood still, as a voice so familiar, yet just now so foreign said, “You ride on ahead and see if you can locate their camp. I’ll be there presently.” She heard the horse stop and felt his nose brush her blanket, so near had he come to her. “_Klah-on-ya-Mary_—are you here alone?” and the end of a quirt touched her none too gently on the head. She heard a stirrup squeak and felt that the man was dismounting. “Come here—I want to talk to you. You know me—I am the Agent—I want to look at you;” but the instant the silent figure felt the touch of his eager fingers upon her arm, Bess sprang forward like a frightened deer, and ran swiftly into the bushes and was soon out of sight. It was all the man could do to restrain the frightened horse, and when he again looked to where he had seen the bushes part to enfold a brightly-hued fleeing creature, they had folded their branches as meekly as if they had nothing to conceal. “Damn these squaws; they are not usually so touchy,” said the man, as he gave his horse an unnecessary jerk at the reins as he remounted and started on. A thin, blue, curling smoke through the trees revealed to him the campers’ location, while awaiting him at the trail was his escort. The police continued on his journey upon receiving a few minute instructions, and the Agent reined his horse into the path leading to the camp. At first he saw no one except the white-aproned man busy preparing lunch, then his advent was seen by the ladies, still busy with their beads. Mrs. Bland came forward to receive the visitor. “I am very much pleased to meet you, Mr. Davis,” she said, as he introduced himself. “I am sorry that the men are away from camp just at present. They are to be back in time for luncheon. Won’t you dismount and help us enjoy a few of the birds which you so kindly permitted us to kill?” “Thank you—I am sure it will be a treat,” he answered as he slid from the saddle. “Er—I—I had hoped to meet Miss Fletcher here also,” he added, as he hesitatingly glanced about. “Oh, yes, she is here—that is, she will be here presently. She just now went down to the road after some more thorn-apples for our chains. We are going to play Indian,” she laughed.