An hour later they were on the Reservation. And they had come by way of the ford. Rosebud was all interest, and everything else was forgotten, even her dislike of Nevil, as they made their way past Little Black Fox's house, and through the encampment of which it was the centre. She was still more delighted when her companion paused and spoke to some of the Indians idling about there. She was free to watch the squaws, and the papooses she loved so well. The little savages were running wild about the tepees, dodging amongst the trailers and poles, or frolicking with the half-starved currish camp dogs. The air was busy with shrieks of delight, and frequently through it all could be detected the note of small ferocity, native to these little red-skinned creatures. It was all so familiar to her, so homely, so different from that other life she had just left. The past few months were utterly forgotten; she was back in her old world again. Back in the only world she really knew and loved. It came as no sort of surprise to her, when, in the midst of this scene, the great chief himself appeared. He came alone, without ceremony or attendants. He stood in the midst of the clearing--tall, commanding, and as handsome as ever. His dusky face was wreathed in a proud, half disdainful smile. He did not attempt to draw near, and, except for a haughty inclination of the head, made no sign. Rosebud had no suspicion. She had no thought of the man with her. She was far too interested in all she saw to wonder how the chief came to be in the midst of the clearing just as she was passing through it. On the far side of the camp a path led to the Agency. Its course was tortuous, winding in the shape of the letter S. It was at the second curve that an unexpected, and to Nevil, at least, unwelcome meeting occurred. Seth, mounted on his own tough broncho, was standing close against the backing of brush which lined the way. He had every appearance of having been awaiting their coming. Nevil's furtive eyes turned hither and thither with the quick glance of a man who prefers a safe retreat to a bold encounter. Rosebud looked serious, and thought of the scolding that might be forthcoming. Then she laughed and urged her horse quickly forward. "Why, Seth----" she cried. But she broke off abruptly. The rest of what she was about to say died out of her mind. Seth was not even looking at her. His eyes were on Nevil Steyne in a hard, cold stare. Physically weak as he was there could be no mistaking the utter hatred conveyed in that look. Rosebud had drawn up beside him. For once she was at a loss, helpless. Nevil was some ten yards in rear of her. There was a moment's silence after the girl's greeting, then Seth said quite sharply-- "You stay right here."