The Indian appeared to be dead, but to make sure that the life had really left the wretch, Tommy struck him again and again with his own tomahawk, which he picked up from the ground, and hacked at him as he would have cut a mad dog or a venomous reptile. "Poor child," he said, as he stooped down and kissed the blood-stained features of little Alice. "This is very hard. I would have gladly laid down my life to save hers, but it is one comfort that her young life is avenged on the person of this bloodthirsty savage." Alice was quite dead. Near the spot where she fell was a cairn or heap of stones. Strangely enough it chanced that this cairn was the one erected by Smithers over the body of his son Harold, whom he had so cruelly killed on this very spot. Perhaps the very ground which was drinking up the life blood of Alice had absorbed that of her brother. Not being able to carry the body to the city for interment, and not liking to leave it to the mercy of the wolves, Tommy tore down some of the stones. Reverently lifting the body, he placed it in the center of the heap, and covered it again with the biggest stones his strength would permit him to lift. Then the brother and sister were buried in one rude grave. "Poor Alice!" said Tommy. "God bless her!" His first impulse was to return to the cave and carry to his mother the melancholy news of Alice's death. She had already been informed of the decease of Harold, and had grieved much in consequence; but come to think of it, he felt a conviction that she would like him, if possible, to save Smithers from the impending arrest. Following out this train of thought Tommy turned round again and walked toward Silver City. It was quite late in the day when he arrived there, but he soon found Mr. Smithers, and told him all the sad news. "But this is not all," said Tommy. "You are in danger of----" "Of what?" "Arrest. The detective, Berghausen, is in this city looking for you, and you may expect him here at any moment. Your only safety is instant flight." Smithers looked the picture of despair. "I must fly," he exclaimed, after a pause. "Truly has it been said that there is no rest for the wicked. But it is hard to have no place to lay one's head, and to be a wanderer on the face of the earth. Why was I not content with little? All this comes of pride and living beyond my income. Take warning by my fate, boy, and whatever your circumstances in life may be, rest satisfied with it. Pride must have a fall." "Had you not better take what money you can, hire a horse, and start, sir?" said Tommy. "Yes, yes. It is very good of you to do all this for me, Tommy. I had no right to expect it, for I always treated you badly." "Mother always taught me to forgive my enemies," answered Tommy; "and, of course, I could not expect you to like me so well as Harold and Alice." Going to the safe he took from it a large roll of bills. There was a voice on the stairs. "Ha!" he cried, "what is that?"