Flora was careful not to go near Dove-eye when she returned to the lodge on the cliff. She was so much excited at meeting Benning, that she knew her friend would notice her state of mind and inquire the cause, and she was by no means sure that it would be good policy to inform the Indian girl of the plot that had been laid to destroy her tribe.

She went, therefore, as quickly as possible, to the cave in which Fred Wilder was concealed, and astonished that young man by bursting in upon him suddenly.

“What is the matter, Miss Robinette?” he asked. “You look as if you had seen a ghost; but it must have been a pleasant one, to judge from your countenance.”

She astonished him again, by running to the entrance, and peering out carefully, to see if any one was in sight or hearing, before she composed herself sufficiently to take a seat by his side and answer his question.

“I have not seen a ghost,” she replied; “but I have seen a man. White Shield is alive and safe.”

“That is nothing very wonderful. I was not afraid that the Arapahoes would rub out that red-skin, and I expected to hear from him before long. Is that all?”

“George Benning is here. I saw him this morning.”

“Ah! That accounts for the milk in the cocoanut. No wonder you are excited. What has he been doing this long time? Is he alone?”

“He has been searching for me, and he has a band of Crow warriors to back him, and we are all going to be released and carried home, and I have told him what to do.”

“You would not be so confident of release, I suppose, unless you had told him what to do. Pray tell me what instructions you gave him.”

Flora detailed the plan of the proposed ambuscade and attack upon the Arapahoes as they returned from their visit to the medicine-lodge. Wilder listened with a pleased countenance, but became grave at last.

“Very well planned!” he said. “No one could have hit upon a better idea. There is only one difficulty.”

“What is that?”

“Dove-eye.”

“I have not told her.”

“No; and you must not. Of course it would not do to trust her with the plan of a campaign against her own people. My only fear is that she will be killed in the melÉe, or will fly with the rest.”

Flora’s countenance fell. She had not thought of this.

“Could I not watch her?” she suggested.

“No. You must stay here with me; because such are your orders, and because you must keep out of danger. You would only run the risk of another captivity. It is very selfish in me, Miss Robinette; but I almost feel like wishing that this help had not come, and that we were not to be released. As it is, I am helpless, and must take my chances.”

“Could I not give her a hint that you wished her to remain?”

“It would be impossible to do so without disclosing your design, and you must be very careful of your looks as well as your words, or she will guess it. Don’t let my selfishness trouble you. You must know that I did not speak in earnest.”

Flora left the little cave with a heavy heart. It went hard with her to give pain to the man who had rescued her from the Blackfeet, and who had always shown himself so kind and considerate. She had not thought of the possibility of being separated from Dove-eye, when she and Wilder should be released, and the thought troubled her when it was forced upon her. Dove-eye would not then have guessed, from her joyful and excited manner, that she had received some very good tidings; on the contrary, she would have been likely to ask what had happened to make her so sad and woebegone. But the Indian girl was too much occupied in preparations for the morrow to notice the changes in the demeanor of her friend.

The day passed off pretty much as usual, and at night the old medicine-man went into a trance. That is, he stretched himself out in state in the principal room of the lodge, and Dove-eye declared that he had gone to the spirit-land. JosÉ was sent to the village to inform the warriors that they might come and visit him, and Flora, after a tender leave-taking with Dove-eye, repaired to Wilder’s cave.

She seated herself by the side of the invalid, and waited anxiously and impatiently for the issue of her plans. Wilder told her that a yell would be the signal of the onset, and both listened, eagerly and painfully, for the savage slogan.

Wilder said nothing more of his fears concerning the probable loss of Dove-eye, and Flora did not mention the subject. Both were too much absorbed in listening for the yell, which she longed but almost dreaded to hear. When it came, at last, their nerves had been so strained by their long suspense, that it fell upon them like a thunderbolt.

The Arapaho warriors had come from the village, in a long and solemn procession, to look upon their great medicine-man, who, as they firmly believed, had the power of going to the spirit-land and returning whenever he chose to do so—in others words, of dying and coming to life. George Benning and White Shield had stationed the band of Crows in a ravine near which the procession must pass, and the warriors from the north gazed from their hiding-place at their enemies, gloating over the rich prospect of scalps.

The Arapahoes entered the lodge on the cliff, and looked at the old medicine-man as he lay stretched out on his couch, with his eyes closed and his face of a ghastly color, to all appearances dead. As they defiled past him, they pulled his hair, they pinched him, they pricked him with their knives; but the figure lay cold and motionless, without sign of life, and they were satisfied that he was dead.

When all had seen him, they set out to return to the village, in slow and solemn procession as they had come, leaving Dove-eye alone with the old man. As he usually lay in the trance until noon, and there was time enough, the girl thought that she might as well pay a visit to Flora and Wilder.

She took a parting look at the old man, and was about to leave the lodge when she was startled by a shot from the valley below, followed by a series of wild and unearthly yells. Then came a volley of musket and rifle-shots, with screams of pain and rage; and shouts of triumph and vengeance.

She knew well what it meant. She knew that the Arapahoes had been attacked by a hostile tribe, and she stood irresolute, when the medicine-man, to her great surprise, leaped from his couch, and ran out at the door to see what was the matter.

Dove-eye followed him, and as they looked down into the valley, they stood aghast at the scene which presented itself to their astonished eyes. The Arapahoes, taken at a disadvantage, and mostly unarmed, had been seized with a panic that could not be checked. But few remained to fight, and these were rapidly falling under the weapons of their adversaries. The rest were flying, helter-skelter, in every direction, some up into the hills, some toward the village, and some into the recesses of the ravines, followed by the victorious Crows.

Among those who scampered up the hills was a tall and stalwart warrior, with blood streaming from his head and breast. As he came in sight of the old man and the girl, he warned them to fly, as his pursuers were close behind, and they turned and ran into the lodge.

The warrior did not follow them, but ran on until he came to the cave in which Flora Robinette and Fred Wilder were concealed. He must have known the place, for he went direct to the entrance, although it was hidden by bushes. The painted skin made him hesitate a moment; but he tore it aside and entered the cave.

Flora and Wilder were not a little startled at the sudden entrance of this bleeding and panting savage. The girl screamed, and stepped closer to the invalid, forgetting that he was even more helpless than herself. The Arapaho was also astonished; but the light of vengeance began to gleam in his wild eyes; he could at least have the satisfaction of slaying a pale-face before he died.

Wilder, who divined his intention, put out his unbandaged arm, as if he would shield Flora from violence. At the same time he was cool enough to notice a gray scalp that hung from the Indian’s waist-belt, and he was sure that he knew that scalp. How he longed, in that brief moment, to be free and strong again, instead of lying there, unable to move, compelled to submit to whatever fate the infuriated savage should choose to visit upon him and the almost equally helpless being at his side!

He had little time for reflection. The Arapaho sprung forward and seized the young lady, whom he dragged from the couch. Pulling back her head by the hair, he raised his knife, with threatening look and gesture. Flora sent forth scream upon scream, and Wilder, nearly beside himself with rage, shouted for help at the top of his voice.

The Indian’s blow was never struck. A form came bounding into the little cave; a tomahawk sunk, with a harsh, dull sound, into the skull of the Arapaho; and Flora was lifted in the arms of George Benning. Behind the partisan came White Shield, who coolly proceeded to relieve the fallen warrior of his scalp.

Flora had fainted, and Benning’s attention could not be withdrawn from her until she recovered her consciousness. Then he turned to the invalid, who had spoken to him.

“You were just in time, Benning,” said Wilder. “I was helpless here, and the red-skin had it all his own way. You have not only saved the life of Miss Robinette, but have gained something else. Do you see a gray scalp in that fellow’s belt? Take it out and keep it as you would your life, for much depends upon it.”

Benning obeyed, and looked at Flora as he did so.

“Is this the scalp you spoke to me about?” he asked.

“I suppose so,” she replied. “Mr. Wilder knows.”

“Do you wish me to keep it?”

“Yes, indeed—that is, it will be safer with you, I think.”

“Why must it be kept?”

“My father wished—indeed, I don’t really know, but it must not be lost.”

“I will take care of it. And now we must leave this place. The Arapahoes have been badly whipped, and are scattered over the country; but they will get together again, and they may give us trouble. You can’t move, I see, Wilder, but you can be carried, no doubt.”

Wilder looked at Flora, and muttered the name of Dove-eye.

“What does he mean?” asked Benning.

Flora told him, in a few words, about the Indian girl, and explained the reason of Wilder’s anxiety concerning her.

“We will go and look for her,” said Benning. “She can’t be far away. You will be safe with me now, and White Shield can stay and take care of Silverspur.”