"There, there, son; take it quiet. Yes, she's alive, and the most beautiful woman the good Lord ever made. Never, even in the East, where girls had time to grow good-looking, was there ever anybody like her. I ain't used to it myself, yet. I can't realize it. She's that well growed, and eddicated, and masterful. Why, child, the whole community looks up to her as if she were a sort of queen. I've found that out in just the few hours I've been here, and from just the few I've met. Even Wahneeny--she's here, too; has been most all the time. The Black Partridge, Indian chief, he that was her brother, that took care of you two children when the massacre was, he didn't expect she'd ever come again; but still, it appears, just on the chance of it, he rode off up country somewhere, and he happened to strike her trail, and that Osceolo's--the scamp--that had run off with Kitty's white horse, and fetched 'em all back. The women in the Fort was tellin' me the whole story just now. I hain't got a word out of Wahneeny, yet. She's as close-mouthed as she ever was; but there's more to hear than you could hark to in a day's ride, and--Where you going, Gaspar?" "To find my Kitty." "Well, you needn't. And I don't know as she's any more yours than she is ours, seein' we really had the credit of raisin' her. For she's took her life in her hand, and has gone alone, without ary man to protect her, out across the prairie to face five hunderd Indians on the war-path, and--Hold on! What you up to?" The sailor, or hunter, whichever he might be, had started along the footpath to the Fort, and halted, half angrily, at this interruption. "Well? What? I'll see you by and by. I must find Kitty!" "Right you are, lad. Find her, and fetch her back. And, say! Mercy says your own old Tempest horse is in the stable at the Fort; that it now belongs to the Sun Maid, and she's the only one who ever rides it. The Captain gave it to her because she grieved so about you. I wouldn't wonder if he'd travel nigh as fast as he used--when he run away before. I never saw the beat of you two young ones! As fast as a body catches up to you, off you run!" Even amid the anxiety now renewed in Abel's mind regarding Kitty, the humorous side of the situation appealed to him; but there was no answering smile on Gaspar's face; only an anxiety and yearning beyond the comprehension of either of these honest, simple souls. "Well, go on, then. Run your beatingest, in a bee line, due west. That's the way she took, and that's the trail you'll find her on, if so be you find her at all." Those at the Fort looked, wondered, but did not object, as this dark _voyageur_ strode straight into the stables and to a box stall where Tempest enjoyed a life of pampered indolence. They realized that this was no stranger, but one to whom all things were familiar--even the animal which answered so promptly to the cry: "Tempest, old fellow!"