Bradford was furious. He was on the point of giving full sway to his seething passion, and beating the brains out of the miserable wretch before him; but he thought of the wounded man upon the litter outside, and checked himself. “Where is La Violette?” he hissed fiercely. As if in answer to the question, the curtain of skin was pushed aside, and the young woman stepped into the room. Bradford turned at her entrance. By the dim light of the flickering fire, he saw that she was pale and excited. “Hiram Bradford, what is the meaning of this?” she cried sharply. He thought she referred to his presence in the Prophet’s hut, and was attempting to frame a suitable reply, when she imperiously stamped her little foot and demanded: “Answer me! Why have you killed that young man? And you claimed to be his friend!” “Do you mean Ross Douglas?” Bradford returned wonderingly. “I mean Fleet Foot—Ross Douglas—yes.” “He’s not dead,” Bradford hastened to explain, “but he’s——” “Desperately wounded,” she completed in icy tones. “Yes.” “Why did you do it?” “You wrong me. I didn’t harm him——” “No,” she interrupted angrily, “but you permitted the warriors you had with you to shoot him, when he was trying to regain his liberty. It was murder! For shame! You are worse than a wild beast!” As she finished speaking, her breast was heaving and tears were in her violet eyes. In a few words Bradford explained to her what had happened, and asked her for the use of the cabin she occupied. The cloud partially lifted from her face, and she answered quickly: “I am glad that neither you, nor the warriors under your command, committed this awful deed. For I have learned to look upon you as a brave man, and merciful even to your bitterest enemies.”—Bradford winced slightly.—“You can have the cabin I have occupied, on one condition.” “Name it,” he said promptly. “That I be permitted to nurse your—your friend, shall I say?—back to health.” For a moment she keenly eyed him, to note the effect of her words. Then, seeming to realize that she had made an unusual proposition, she continued confusedly: “I—I promised when he saved my life, to do all in my power to set him free. I meant to keep my word. But his friends came to his rescue, and he regained his freedom without my assistance; only to lose it again. Now he is in great need of tender care; and I want to repay him for risking his life in my behalf. I feel that I am indebted to him. Do you accept my proposal?” “Gladly,” Bradford answered quickly, a strange light flashing in his blue eyes. “Nothing would please me more than to have your assistance.” “Then it is settled,” she returned quietly. “Carry him to the cabin at once. I will come soon.” The Prophet witnessed all that passed; but he offered no opposition to the arrangement. Perhaps he felt it would be useless to do so.