A WOMAN'S WAY.

Kit Carey was fairly startled at the vision of loveliness he beheld before him, for Jennie Bernard had drawn rein suddenly, as she came to where the Sioux chief lay upon the ground, still in the toils of the lasso held in the hand of his captor, who stood over him, his revolver covering him.

Attired in a buckskin riding habit that fitted her form perfectly, wearing a slouch dove-colored hat, and sitting her horse like one reared in the saddle, she was a perfect picture of a border girl, handsome and fearless.

Hardly had her horse been reined to a sudden halt, when the chief spoke in good English:

"Let the Snow Flower speak! Is the Red Hatchet the friend, or the foe, of the pale faces?"

Ever courteous Kit Carey had raised his hat, and now at the words of the imprisoned Sioux chief, spoken most impressively, he had looked straight into the face of the young girl with a strange expression.

"The Red Hatchet is my friend, the friend of our people. Oh, sir! I beg you not to do him harm!"

Instantly did Kit Carey stoop, and unloosen the noose and coil, while he extended his hand, and said:

"Rise, chief, and, believe me, I feel sorry at having made you a prisoner, though to find you here near the retreat of the hostiles I could but take you for a foe, while you are also in full war-paint and battle costume. Why is this, chief?"

"The Red Hatchet wears a double face now. He is the friend of the pale faces, yet not the foe of his people. He will not be a traitor Sioux, and only when in war-paint and feathers can he talk to his braves as one who is not a coward, and urge them not to strike the blow that will destroy them."

The words were delivered with a natural oratory, for which many Indians are noted, and they had their effect even upon such an old frontiersman as was Kit Carey, for he said frankly:

"Again, I say that I am sorry, chief, so let us be friends, though I could swear that I saw you lead the attempted rescue of Sitting Bull, and several times seek my life."

"The Red Hatchet was not there at the death of our great medicine chief," was the quick response of the Sioux.

"Then it was your twin brother?"

"No, no, sir; the Red Hatchet was not there, and I beg you will allow him to go," quickly said Jennie Bernard.

"May I ask, miss, how you heard down here of the death of Sitting Bull, so soon after its happening," and the eyes of the officer were fixed searchingly upon the face of the maiden.

Her face flushed, yet she answered in a quiet way:

"The news was brought by a Sioux Indian, sir."

"Ah!" and with this exclamation various thoughts flashed like lightning through the mind of the officer.

Vouched for by a white maiden, lovely in face and form, and declared not to have been at the attempt at rescue of Sitting Bull, in contradiction to his own eye-sight, even, Kit Carey felt compelled to yield.

Yet the sad thought came upon him that this lovely young pale face girl loved the Indian chief.

What could he believe otherwise, for now the belief at first that she was a captive, had changed to the almost certain knowledge that he had come upon a lover's tryst, if one was white, the other red.

Pocahontas had saved the life of Captain Smith, and then married a white man, and a number of such marriages had occurred away back in the earlier history of our country.

Here was as handsome an Indian as he had ever seen, one who spoke like an orator, and seemed born to command, and the romantic girl had fallen in love with him, Kit Carey decided.

It was a bad thing for the girl, but good for her people, for such a chief must have power over his braves, and would hold them in check.

So, turning to the maiden, Kit Carey said:

"I am glad, miss, if it is as you say, and I accept your pledge for the Sioux chief, while, to him I would say, to go among his people, and tell them how utterly useless will it be for them to fight the whites, and the sooner he acts the better will it be for all."

"The Red Hatchet has heard, and will do as the White War Eagle says, for he knows him."

"Ah! I thought that we had met before," quickly said the officer.

"The White War Eagle has been the bitter foe of the Sioux, when on the war-path; but the Red Hatchet is his friend now."

The chief extended his hand, and Kit Carey grasped it, and then said:

"There is the pony of the chief. Let him lose no time in going to his braves and urging them against war."

Thus dismissed, the chief stalked silently to his pony, mounted, and rode away, while Kit Carey turned to Jennie Bernard, who now seemed confused at the position in which she found herself, for she spoke not a word.

"May I introduce myself as Lieutenant Carey, miss, and offer to be your escort to your home, for I know of no settlers' dwelling within miles of here?"

"My father's is the nearest, sir. I am Miss Bernard," was the response, and the manner and tone seemed more embarrassed than before.

"And Miss Bernard will accept me as her escort, for she is in danger of her life here?"

"I will, sir, and thank you," was the earnest reply.

Then, as Kit Carey threw himself into his saddle and wheeled alongside of her, she cried suddenly as she burst into tears:

"Oh, Lieutenant Carey! what harm may I not have done, for I told you a falsehood, for the Red Hatchet is the most desperate leader of the hostiles!"