“My father’s people would leave no trail of the daughter of their chief,” she said proudly. “Now,” she continued, after she had rested a few minutes, “I bring the son of my man back to his people. He is not Indian, and he must not join himself to my people. I have kept him clean. He will be great among his own people. This his father would wish. I have brought him back. You will take him to his people.” She turned her eyes upon the sergeant, waiting his answer. “I will bring him back,” he said. “I give you my word.” “Good! That is all. My work is done now,” she said with a little sigh. “I have spoken true words.” Once more she kissed the crucifix. “Listen,” said the sergeant. “The man you struck did not die. One of our men pulled him from the burning house. He lives today.” “Sleeman is alive?” exclaimed Paul. “Alive?” said the Indian woman. “Wait, Paul. You will let me speak.” She lay for some moments with eyes closed, then in a voice which shook with emotion she cried, “Alive? Ah! ah! I _was_ glad he was dead, now I am glad he is alive. The good Father told me it was not good to go—to pass—with blood on the hands. The Holy Mother was praying for me! It is good!” She turned her dark eyes upon Paul. “No, Paul. You remember your word to your father. That is done.” She put her hand on his arm. “No! no! That is not the way of your people. For me? Perhaps. For you? No! It is not your law.” Again her eyes searched his pale set face. “He would have wronged you, Onawata, my father’s wife. There is only one thing for me—only one.” “Paul, I have brought you back to your people. I have kept you clean. You will be a great man among your people. You will promise me.” She raised herself on her arm. “I go—perhaps I shall see your father, my chief. I cannot go without your word. A-a-ah!” her voice rose in a wailing cry. “To him, to you, I brought only sorrow and shame. Lay on me no more, Paul. I have suffered much.” She fumbled under the pillow and drew out and unwrapped a small parcel, carefully wrapped in deer skin. “Take it, Paul. It is your mother’s good book. You will kiss it and say you will not kill the man—for her, for her, Paul!” Her voice rose in a cry, her hands reached trembling toward him.