"God be praised!" he said over and over. Then he held Squaw Charley away from him a moment to look him up and down. "I feared some harm had come to you--that your people had behaved so cruelly to you that you had died. But you are well. Yet how thin! Ah! I am so glad to see you once more!" He held him close again, murmuring a blessing. When he released him, it was to make room for him on the seat, and wrap him up in a thick, soft quilt. All the while the benevolent old face was shining with happiness, and tears were streaming down the wrinkled cheeks. Squaw Charley, too, was overcome. His black eyes were no longer sad and lowered. They glowed softly, almost adoringly, as he watched his friend. "David Bond had not forgotten you, Charles," the old man said, as he clucked to the white horse. "I was at Dodge City--that wickedest town of the plains--when news came of the capture of your village. At once I started, for I knew that my duty lay here, here with your poor people, who will not realise how foolish and puny is their warfare. I did not come alone," he added, casting a look behind; "a white man accompanied me--a man so full of evil and blasphemy that I quake for the safety of his miserable soul. He has walked most of the distance, for he is warmer walking, and there are scarce enough quilts for two." They looked back. A mile to the rear, trailed a solitary man. Squaw Charley made a quick, questioning sign. "His name is Matthews," replied David Bond; "and his mission, I fear, is a bad one. All the way he has urged my poor Shadrach on and on, so that we have hardly had time to rest and eat. And all the day, as he rides or tramps, he mutters to himself. When I ask him what he is saying, he replies, 'You'll find out quick enough!' and curses more vilely than before." The pung was now opposite the stockade. Looking across the river, David Bond got his first view of the high-walled prison with its ever-moving and wary guards. He pulled up his horse. "Alas!" he exclaimed mournfully, "how misguided they are--white and red men alike!" The pung slid on until the cut in the river-bank was reached. Again the old man reined. "I cannot cross the river while the ice is so smooth. Shadrach could not keep his feet. And I will not leave him behind. But where can I stop on this side?" Glancing to the left, he saw the line of saloons. "There, Charles," he said. "I shall drive there and ask for shelter." He turned the white horse into the cut. As they approached the shanties, a woman's voice was heard, raised in ribald song. "God sends David Bond whither he is most needed," the old man murmured fervently. A shingle sign was nailed over the door of the first building. On it, in bold, uneven letters, were the words: _The Trooper's Delight_. David Bond climbed down and knocked.