“I’m no blind fool, at any rate,” Douglas retorted angrily. Then in an injured, half-pleading tone: “Why don’t you tell me all you know of her?” “Why should I?” laughed the other, huskily. “You’re making your own observations and drawing your own conclusions. And no doubt your preconceived opinions would remain unshaken, no matter what I might say.” “I have formed my opinions from what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen.” “Is it possible you give credence to my words?” “Of course”—in a surprised tone. “Why not?” “I know of no reason except this: You hate me—consider me an enemy—and doubt my integrity.” Bradford said this in a voice thick with emotion. Ross stopped and stared hard at the speaker. He felt himself imperceptibly drawn toward the man. His heart was gradually softening—as wax in a warm hand. To relieve his embarrassment and conceal his feelings, he returned gruffly: “But you have told me the truth in this instance?” “So far as I’ve told you anything—yes. But why are you so interested in the Prophet’s daughter? Are you so susceptible—are you already smitten—that you insist on throwing such a glamor of romance around her?” “Nonsense!” Douglas exclaimed. But his cheeks flushed; and he did not meet his companion’s steady gaze. “Have a care!” Bradford cried.—And Ross could not tell from his countenance, whether he meant his words in jest or in earnest.—“You must not set your affections there. The Prophet’s angelic daughter cannot be for such as you—a despised paleface, a member of the Seventeen Fires. Tenskwatawa has placed her above all things earthly. His followers idolize her—worship her. She has as much influence with them, almost, as the Prophet or Tecumseh. Stern chiefs have sighed for her; young braves have died for her. Her smile is considered a benediction; her frown, a calamity. Her word is law. It is said she twists Tenskwatawa around her finger and holds Tecumseh under her thumb——” “And you accuse me of throwing a glamor of romance around her,” Ross smilingly interrupted. Bradford laughed heartily and continued: “At any rate, you’ll do well to heed my warning. I don’t want to see you cut into giblets, for daring to aspire to her heart and hand. Shun her presence as you would shun a pestilence. Tenskwatawa’s daughter is not for you.” Douglas, looking at the speaker, again encountered that inscrutable smile. Both remained thoughtful and silent for some time—all the while steadily plodding onward. The sun declined toward the western horizon. The surface of the country through which they were passing was seamed with gullies and ravines. The trail sprang from one, only to tumble headlong into another. Precipitous hills succeeded sloping elevations. The forest grew denser. Just as the sun dropped into the brown billows of the prairie beyond the Wabash and disappeared, the long line of weary and hungry savages began to descend into the valley of Wildcat Creek.