Suddenly, far above her head, she heard the gunshot, the scream of agony tearing through space, at once an alarum and rallying cry; it meant to the lonely girl all the savagery of battle; it might mean havoc and despair. She covered her face with her hands a moment, removing them the next instant in time to see a falling body drop into the water almost at her feet. Terror rendered her motionless. The soft waves stole up and flung themselves over the quiet body huddled there breast high in the stream. Then a new thought came to her--“if it should be Warren!” Gathering herself up, she stumbled through the grass to the edge of the river, fell on her knees on the bank and surveyed the helpless shape lying there. A groan broke from the white lips. She nerved herself to move nearer. She took the unconscious head in both hands and turned the face toward herself and--looked into the sightless eyes of Thomson. Her relief was so great that she sobbed aloud; then after giving broken thanks that it was not Warren, she rose from her knees and began to look about her for means to succor the man before her. He was her enemy, but the mother instinct that dwells in all good women, which can look on death, gave her calmness and strength to do, and the heart to forgive. She turned to seek help and faced Judah coming out from the trees. “Oh, Judah, he is alive!” she exclaimed, pointing to the inanimate figure in the water. Judah gazed at her in surprise, then said: “What! Not dead yet? I thought I had settled his case for all time. How came you here?” “I came out to look for the wounded. Help me to carry this man to camp; surely you are satisfied now. You cannot shoot a dying man,” she said, sternly catching the ferocious light that still glimmered in his eyes as he lifted his gun to the hollow of his arm. “I did it for you as much as for myself. Have you forgotten your father?” he added, reproachfully. “I do not forget. God forbid! But you have done enough.” “Not enough,” replied Judah. “He is the hater of my race. He is of those who enslave both body and soul and damn us with ignorance and vice and take our manhood. I made an oath; it was no idle threat.” He poised his gun. Quick as a flash the girl threw herself before the unconscious Thomson. “You shall not! You make yourself as vile as the vilest of them--our enemies. Let the man die in peace. See, he is almost gone.” “Yes, Judah, it is enough; she is right,” said Warren Maxwell’s voice as he joined the group by the stream. “Surely you must be sick of bloodshed. Have you not had enough?” With a glad cry Winona was folded in her lover’s arms. “Let it be as you wish,” said Judah after a short time, as he silently viewed the happiness of the lovers. Then he prepared to help Warren lift Thomson from the stream. They turned faint and sick at the sight of the man’s wounds. “His back is broken,” said Warren, in reply to Winona’s questioning eyes.