“They knew I could take care of myself, and wouldn't stand in the way of their duty,” said the young girl, anticipating him with quick professional pride that seemed to fit her aquiline nose and tall figure. “And if they knew that,” she added, softening with a mischievous smile, “they also knew, of course, that I was protected by a gallant stranger vouched for by Mr. Foster! No!” she added, with a certain blind, devoted confidence, which Boyle noticed with a slight wince that she had never shown before, “it's all right! and 'by orders,' Mr. Boyle, and when they've done their work they'll be back.” But Boyle's masculine common sense was, perhaps, safer than Miss Cantire's feminine faith and inherited discipline, for in an instant he suddenly comprehended the actual truth! The Indians had been there FIRST; THEY had despoiled the coach and got off safely with their booty and prisoners on the approach of the escort, who were now naturally pursuing them with a fury aroused by the belief that their commander's daughter was one of their prisoners. This conviction was a dreadful one, yet a relief as far as the young girl was concerned. But should he tell her? No! Better that she should keep her calm faith in the triumphant promptness of the soldiers--and their speedy return. “I dare say you are right,” he said cheerfully, “and let us be thankful that in the empty coach you'll have at least a half-civilized shelter until they return. Meantime I'll go and reconnoitre a little.” “I will go with you,” she said. But Boyle pointed out to her so strongly the necessity of her remaining to wait for the return of the soldiers that, being also fagged out by her long climb, she obediently consented, while he, even with his inspiration of the truth, did not believe in the return of the despoilers, and knew she would be safe. He made his way to the nearest thicket, where he rightly believed the ambush had been prepared, and to which undoubtedly they first retreated with their booty. He expected to find some signs or traces of their spoil which in their haste they had to abandon. He was more successful than he anticipated. A few steps into the thicket brought him full upon a realization of more than his worst convictions--the dead body of Foster! Near it lay the body of the mail agent. Both had been evidently dragged into the thicket from where they fell, scalped and half stripped. There was no evidence of any later struggle; they must have been dead when they were brought there.