“You may be pursued and recaptured—or may fall into the hands of some roving band of redmen. In either case, the talisman will save your life. Boldly show it and say that Tenskwatawa gave it to you—that you are under his protection, that you have his magic power. The warriors—whoever they may be—will not ask you to prove your assertions. They have been led to believe that the power lies in the ring. And they heard the Prophet say at Wildcat Creek, that he would not again give the trinket into the hands of one who could not use it. It will protect you, Fleet Foot.” “But how did you obtain it?” he asked in an agitated undertone. She answered naïvely: “I went to Tenskwatawa’s lodge, to get the gun and ammunition I have given you. He was sleeping. I slipped the ring from his finger and came away.” “But in so doing haven’t you shorn him of his power?” “No. There is no virtue in the talisman, except in the Prophet’s hands. He is cunning. He will tell a miraculous story of its loss—and straightway procure another. I have robbed him of nothing but the bauble itself. But you are tarrying too long—you must go at once. Crane Bill, my aged attendant, may return at any time. She hates all palefaces; she would raise an alarm. Hark!” Both listened intently, holding their breaths in their excitement. Fierce yells came to their ears—yells of fiendish rage and disappointment. Both knew what the uproar meant; Douglas’s enemies had discovered his escape. Grasping her companion’s arm with both her trembling hands, La Violette cried breathlessly: “Go—go at once! They are searching for you. Soon they will be here. The cabin will be surrounded and your escape cut off. For my sake—go!” Slipping his arm around her supple waist, he panted in reply: “Come with me! This is no place for you. You are not safe here—they’ll wreak their revenge upon you——” “No—no!” she answered brokenly. “It is impossible. You could not escape with me. I am safe here—they will not dare to harm me. Bid me good-by—and go—go!” “Come with me, La Violette!” he insisted—tenderest pity, intensest love in his voice. “Together we will return to the blessings of civilization. I’ll be your protector—your brother——” “No!” she interrupted sadly, but firmly—a sob in her throat. “It cannot be. To-day I have been instrumental in saving you—I may be able to save others. At least, I can risk my life in trying. I cannot go with you, Ross. Good-by—good-by forever!” “Kiss me!” he whispered in her ear. She lifted her face to his. In the darkness their lips met. Each felt the tumultuous beating of the other’s heart. For a half minute he strained her to his breast, ere he released her and softly murmured: “Good-by, La Violette—and God bless you!”