In low tones they conversed for some time, aimlessly rambling from one subject to another. Each put forth an effort to entertain the other; but in spite of their endeavors the conversation flagged. Silence fell upon them. The stars peeped out; the moon rose above the tree-tops. At last the girl sprang from her seat, and with a soft “good-night” slipped away among the shadows. Douglas promptly got upon his feet, and calling to Duke—who lay dozing near the door—entered the hut. The place was in absolute darkness. Without removing any of his apparel, the young man threw himself upon his couch, murmuring: “At last the opportunity has come; and I’m ready to take advantage of it. I’ll snatch a few hours of sleep. Then when the camp is wrapped in slumber, I’ll steal into the black forest, and leave this hated place far behind me. No guards have been placed over me. I can hardly understand it. But I ought not to complain, if fortune sees fit to favor me for once. Ah, Amy! God favoring, I shall soon meet you and clasp you to my heart!” A short time he lay, open-eyed and thoughtful. Then sighing deeply, he whispered: “But I hate to part from La Violette. She’s a sweet, lovable, trusting child. I have learned to like her very much. And—poor little girl!—she likes me only too well, I fear. But I’m in nowise to blame. I haven’t sought to win her heart. I have tried to hold her at arm’s length. But, simple child of nature that she is, she can’t disguise her feelings. I pity her. I hate to leave her here—to such a fate. But I can’t take her with me—it’s out of the question. How lonely she will be! May God keep and comfort my little wild violet, when I am gone!” With this fervent utterance, he resolutely closed his eyes and fell asleep. An hour passed. Ross was awakened by the voice of the bloodhound. The animal stood by his master’s bedside, growling fiercely. His bristles were erect; his eyes, fixed upon the open door, through which the mellow moonlight was streaming. Douglas raised himself upon his elbow and looked toward the opening in the wall. A dusky form for one brief moment darkened the doorway. Then, outlined in the bright moonlight, a stalwart Indian stepped into the room. Instantly Ross was upon his feet. “What do you want here?” he demanded angrily, in the Shawnee tongue. The brave made no reply; but, gliding forward, secured Douglas’s gun that stood in the corner of the room near the bed. Then he nimbly leaped through the doorway—and was gone. Beside himself with rage and disappointment, the young man shouted: “Take him, Duke!” Impatiently the bloodhound had been awaiting the word of command. With a bound he cleared the doorway. Another leap, and he fell upon the retreating savage, like an avalanche. The warrior dropped the rifle and drew his knife to defend himself, uttering a blood-curdling yell as he did so.