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CHAPTER XXII
IVON

The Count and his two companions, as we have seen, bravely awaited the attack of the Indians; it was terrible. For an instant there was a horrible mêlée hand to hand; then the Indians fell back to draw breath, and begin again. Ten corpses lay at the feet of the three men, who were motionless and firm as a block of granite.

"By heavens!" the Count said, as he wiped away, with the back of his hand, the perspiration mingled with blood that stood in large beads on his forehead, "it is a glorious fight."

"Yes," Bright-eye replied, carelessly; "but it is mortal."

"What matter, if we die like men?"

"Hum! I am not of that opinion. As long as there is a chance, we must seize it."

"But none is left us!"

"Perhaps there is; but let me act."

"I ask no better. Still I confess to you that I find this fight glorious."

"It is really very agreeable; but it would be much more so, if we lived to recount it."

"On my word, that is true. I did not think of that."

"Yes, but I did."

The Canadian stooped down to Ivon, and whispered some words in his ear.

"Yes," the Breton replied, "provided I am not afraid."

"Bravo!" the hunter said, with a smile; "you will do what you can. That is agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Look out, comrades," the Count shouted; "here are the enemy!"

In truth, the Indians were ready to renew the attack. Natah Otann and White Buffalo were resolved on taking the Count alive, and without a wound; they had consequently given their warriors orders not to employ their firearms, content themselves with parrying the blows dealt them, but take him at every risk. During the few moments' respite which the Indians had allowed the white men, the other Indians had run up to take part in the fight; so that the hunters, surrounded on all sides, had to make head against at least forty Redskins. It would have been madness or blind temerity to attempt opposing such a mass of enemies; and yet the white men did not appear to dream of asking quarter. At the moment Natah Otann was going to give the signal for attack, White Buffalo, who had hitherto stood aloof, gloomy and thoughtful, interposed, —

"A moment!" he said.

"For what good?" the Chief remarked.

"Let me make the attempt. Perhaps they will recognize that a struggle is impossible, and consent to accept our propositions."

"I doubt it," Natah Otann muttered, shaking his head; "they appear very resolute."

"Let me try it. You know how necessary it is for the success of our plans that we should seize this man?"

"Unfortunately; if we do not take care, he will be killed."

"That is what I wish to avoid."

"Try it then; but I am convinced you will fail."

"Who knows? I can try, at any rate."

White Buffalo walked a few paces in advance, and was then about six yards from the Count.

"What do you want?" the young man said. "If I did not involuntarily know that you are a Frenchman, I should have long ago put a bullet into your chest."

"Fire! – what stops you?" the exile replied, in a sad voice. "Do you believe that I fear death?"

"Enough talking. Retire! or I will fire."

And he levelled his rifle at him.

"I wish to say one word to you."

"Speak quickly, and be off."

"I offer you and your comrades your lives, if you will surrender."

The Count burst into a laugh.

"Nonsense," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders; "do you take us for fools? We were the guests of your companions, and they have impudently violated the law of nations."

"That is your last word, then?"

"The last, by Jove! You must have lived a long time among the Indians to have forgotten that Frenchmen would sooner die than be cowards."

"Your blood be on your own heads, then."

"So be it, odious renegade, who fight with savages against your brothers."

This insult struck the old man to the heart; he bent a fearful glance on the young man, turned pale as death and withdrew, tottering like a drunkard, and muttering, in a low voice, —

"Oh, these nobles!"

"Well?" Natah Otann asked him.

"He refuses," he answered quickly.

"I was sure of it. Now it is our turn."

Raising to his lips his war whistle, he produced a shrill and lengthened sound, to which the Indians responded with a frightful yell, and rushed like a legion of demons on the three men, who received them without yielding an inch. The mêlée recommenced in all its fury; the three men clubbed their rifles, and dealt crushing blows around. Ivon performed prodigies of valour, rising and sinking his rifle with the regularity of a pendulum, smashing a man at every blow, and muttering, —

"Ouf, there's another: holy Virgin, I feel my terror coming upon me."

Still the circle drew closer round the three men; others took the places of the Indians who fell, and were in their turn pushed onward by those behind. The hunters were weary of striking. Their arms did not fall with the same vigour; their blows failed in regularity; the blood rose to their heads; their eyes were injected with blood, and they had a dizziness in their ears.

"We are lost!" the Count muttered.

"Courage!" Bright-eye yelled, as he smashed in the skull of an Indian.

"It is not courage that fails me, but strength," the young man answered, in a fainting voice.

"Forward, forward!" Natah Otann repeated, bounding like a demon round the three men.

"Now, Ivon, now!" Bright-eye cried out.

"Good bye," the Breton replied.

And turning his terrible weapon round his head, he rushed into the densest throng of the Indians.

"Follow me, Count," Bright-eye went on.

"Come on then," the latter shouted.

The two men executed on the opposite side the manoeuvre attempted by the Breton. Ivon, the coward you know, seemed to have at the moment entirely forgotten his fear of being speared; he appeared, like Briareus, to have a hundred arms to level the numerous assailants who incessantly rose before him, and cleft his way through the throng. Fortunately for the Breton, most of the Indians had rushed in pursuit of game more valuable to them, that is, the Count and the Canadian, who had redoubled their efforts, though already so prodigious.

While still fighting, Ivon had reached the skirt of the wood, about three or four yards from the spot where the horses were tied. This was probably what the Breton wished for. So soon as he found himself in a straight line with the horses, instead of pushing forward as he had hitherto done, he began to fall back step to step, so as to arrive close to them. Still, he always fought with that cold resolution which distinguishes the Bretons, and renders them such terrible foemen.

Suddenly, when he found himself near enough to the horses, Ivon gave a parting blow to the nearest Indian, sent him staggering backwards with a dashed-in skull, took a panther leap, and reached the Count's horse. In a second he had mounted, dug his spurs into the flanks of the noble animal, and galloped off, after knocking down two Indians who tried to stop him.

"Hurrah! saved! saved!" he shouted, in a voice of thunder, as he disappeared in the forest, where the Blackfeet did not dare to follow him.

The Redskins stood stupefied by such a prodigious flight. The cry uttered by Ivon was doubtlessly a signal agreed on between him and Bright-eye; for, so soon as he heard it, the hunter, by a hurried movement, seized the Count's arm as he was in the act of striking.

"What on earth are you about?" the latter said, turning to him angrily.

"I am saving you," the hunter replied, coolly; "throw down your weapon! – We surrender," he then exclaimed.

"You will explain your conduct, I presume?" the Count continued.

"Be of good cheer; you will approve it."

"Be it so."

And he threw the gun down. The Indians, whom the hunters' heroic defence kept at a distance, rushed upon them so soon as they saw they were disarmed, Natah Otann and White Buffalo hurried up; the two men already were thrown down on the sand, when the Chief interposed.

"Sir," he said, "you are my prisoner; and you too, Bright-eye."

The young man shrugged his shoulders with contempt.

"Reckon up what your victory has already cost you," the hunter replied, with a sardonic smile, and pointing to the numerous corpses that lay on the plain. Natah Otann, however, pretended not to hear this remark.

"If you will give me your word of honour not to escape, gentlemen," White Buffalo said, "you will be unloosed, and your weapons restored to you."

"Is this another trap you are laying for us?" the Count asked, haughtily.

"Bah!" Bright-eye said, with a significant glance at his comrade, "we will give our word for four-and-twenty hours; after that, we will see."

"You hear, gentlemen," the young man said; "this hunter and myself pledge our words for four-and-twenty hours. Does that suit you? Of course, at the end of that time, we are free to recall it."

"Or to pledge it again," the Canadian added, with a smile; "what do we risk by doing so?"

The two Chiefs exchanged a few whispered words.

"We accept," Natah Otann at length said.

At a sign from him, the prisoners' bonds were cut, and they rose.

"Hum!" Bright-eye said, stretching himself with delight, "it does one good to have the use of his limbs. Bah! I knew they would not kill me this time, either."

"Here are your horses and arms, gentlemen," the Chief said.

"Permit me," the Count remarked coolly, drawing his watch from his pocket, "it is now half-after seven; you have our parole till the same time tomorrow evening."

"Very good," White Buffalo said, with a bow.

"And now, where are you going to take us, if you please?" the hunter asked, with a crafty look.

"To the village!"

"Thank you."

The two men jumped into their saddles, and followed the Indians, who only waited for them to start. Ten minutes later, this place, on which so many events had occurred during the day, became again calm and silent.

We will leave the Count and the hunter returning to the village under good escort, to follow the track of Ivon.

After leaving the battlefield, the latter rode straight ahead, not caring to lose precious time in looking for a path; for the moment all were good, provided that they bore him from the enemies he had so providentially escaped. Still, after galloping for about an hour across the wood, reassured by the perfect silence that prevailed around him, he gradually checked his horse's speed. It was high time for this idea to occur to him, as the poor horse, so harshly treated, was beginning to break down. The Breton profited by this slight truce to reload his weapons.

"I am not brave," he said in a low voice, "but by Jove! as my poor master says, the first scamp that attempts to bar my way, I will blow out his brains, so surely as my name is Ivon."

And the worthy man would have done as he said, we feel assured. After advancing a few hundred yards, Ivon looked around, stopped his horse, and dismounted.

"What is the use of going any farther?" he said, resuming his soliloquy; "my horse wants rest, and I shall not be the worse for a halt. As well here as elsewhere."

On this, he took off his horse's saddle, carried his master's portmanteau to the foot of a tree, and began lighting a fire.

"How quickly night comes on in this confounded country," he muttered; "it is hardly eight o'clock, and it is as black as in an oven."

While discoursing thus all alone, he had collected a considerable quantity of dry wood; he returned to the spot he had selected for camping, piled up the wood, struck a light, knelt, and began blowing with all the strength of his lungs to make it catch. In a moment he raised his head to breathe; but uttered a yell of terror, and almost fell backwards. He had seen, about three paces from the fire, two persons silently watching him. The first moment of surprise past, the Breton bounded on his feet, and cocked his pistols.

"Confuse you," he shouted, "you gave me a pretty fright; but no matter, we will see."

"My brother may be at rest," a soft voice replied, in bad English, "we do not wish to do him any harm."

As a Breton, Ivon spoke nearly as good English as he did French. On hearing these words, he bent forward, and looked. "Oh!" he said, "the Indian girl."

"Yes, it is I," Prairie-Flower answered, as she stepped forward.

Her companion followed her, and Ivon recognized Red Wolf.

"You are welcome," he remarked, "to my poor encampment."

"Thanks," she answered.

"How is it that you are here?"

"And you?" she said, answering one question by another.

"Oh, I!" he said, shaking his head, "that is a sad story."

"What does my brother mean?" Red Wolf asked.

"Good, good," the Breton said, turning his head; "that is my business, and not yours. First, tell me what brings you to me, and I will then see if I may confide to you what has happened to my master and myself."

"My brother is prudent," Prairie-Flower answered, "he is right: prudence is good on the prairie."

"Hum! I wish my master had heard you make that remark, perhaps he would not be where he now is."

Prairie-Flower gave a start of terror.

"Wah! has any misfortune happened to him?" she said, in an agonized voice.

Ivon looked at her.

"You appear to take an interest in him?"

"He is brave," she exclaimed, passionately; "this morning he killed the cougars that threatened Prairie-Flower; she has a heart – she will remember."

"That is true; quite true, young lady," he said; "he saved your life. Tell me first, though, how it is we should have met in this forest."

"Listen, then, as you insist."

The Breton bowed. To all his other qualities Ivon added that of being as obstinate as an Andalusian mule. Once the worthy man had taken a theory into his head, nothing could turn him from it. We must grant, however, that he had at present excellent reason to distrust the Indians.

Prairie-Flower continued: —

"After Glass-eye had so bravely killed the cougars," she said, with considerable emotion, "the great Chief, Natah Otann, was angry with Prairie-Flower, and ordered her to return to the village with Red Wolf."

"I know all that," Ivon interrupted, "I was there; and that is why it seems to me so extraordinary to meet you here when you should have been on the road to the village."

The Indian girl gave one of those little pouts peculiar to her, and which rendered her so seductive.

"The pale man is as curious as an old squaw," she said, with an accent of ill-humour; "why does he wish to know Prairie-Flower's secret? She has in her heart a little bird which sings pleasant songs to her, and attracts her in the footsteps of the Paleface who saved her."

"Ah!" said the Breton, partly catching the girl's meaning; "that is different."

"Instead of returning to the village," Red Wolf interposed, "Prairie-Flower wished to return to the side of Glass-eye."

The Breton reflected for a long time; the two Indians watched him silently, patiently waiting till he thought proper to explain himself. Presently, he raised his head, and, fixing his cunning grey eye on the girl, he asked her distinctly, —

"You love him, then?"

"Yes," she answered, looking down on the ground.

"Very good. Now listen attentively to what I am about to tell you; it will interest you prodigiously, or I am greatly mistaken."

The two hearers bent down toward him, and listened attentively. Ivon then related most copiously his master's conversation with the two Chiefs; the dispute that arose between them; the combat that ensued from it, and the way in which he had escaped.

"If I did run away," he said, in conclusion, "heaven is my witness that it was not for the purpose of saving my life. Though I am a desperate coward, I would never hesitate to sacrifice my life for him; but Bright-eye advised me to act in this way, so that I may try and find assistance for them both."

"Good," the girl said, quickly; "the Paleface is brave. What does he intend to do?"

"I mean to save my master, by Jove!" the Breton said, resolutely. "The only thing is, that I do not know how to set about it."

"Prairie-Flower knows. She will help the Paleface."

"Is what you promise really true, young girl?"

The Indian maid smiled.

"The Paleface will follow Prairie-Flower and Red Wolf," she said; "they will lead him to a spot where he will find friends."

"Good; and when will you do it, my good girl?" he asked, his heart palpitating with joy.

"So soon as the Paleface is ready to start."

"At once, then, at once!" the Breton exclaimed, hurriedly rising, and hurrying to his horse.

Prairie-Flower and Red Wolf had concealed their steeds in the centre of a clump of trees. Ten minutes later, and Ivon and his guides quitted the clearing where they had met; it was about midnight when they started.

"My poor master!" the Breton muttered. "Shall I be permitted to save him?"

CHAPTER XXIII
THE PLAN OF THE CAMPAIGN

The night was black, gloomy, and storm-laden. The wind howled with a mournful murmur through the branches; at each gust the trees shook their damp crowns, and sent down showers, which pattered on the shrubs. The sky was of a leaden hue; so great was the silence in the desert, that the fall of a withered leaf, or the rustling of a branch touched in its passage by some invisible animal, could be distinctly heard.

Ivon and his guides advanced cautiously through the forest, seeking their road in the darkness, half lying on their horses, so as to avoid the branches that lashed their faces at every moment. Owing to the endless turns they were compelled to take, nearly two hours elapsed ere they left the forest. At length they debouched on the plain, and found themselves almost simultaneously on the banks of the Missouri. The river, swollen by rain and snow, rolled along its yellowish waters noisily. The fugitives followed the bank in a south-western direction. Now that they had struck the river, all uncertainty had ceased for them; their road was so distinctly traced that they had no fear of losing it.

On arriving at a spot where a point of sand jutted out for several yards into the bed of the river, and formed a species of cape, from the end of which objects could be seen for some distance, owing to the transparency of the water, Red Wolf made a sign to his companions to halt, and himself dismounted. Prairie-Flower and Ivon imitated him. Ivon was not sorry to take a few moments' rest, and, above all, make some inquiries before proceeding further. At the first blush, carried away by an unreflecting movement of the heart, which impelled him to save his master by any means that offered, he had not hesitated to follow his two strange guides; but, with reflection, distrust had returned still more powerfully, and the Breton was unwilling to go further with the persons he had met, until he possessed undoubted proofs of their honesty.

So soon as he had dismounted then, and taken off his horse's bridle, so that it should crop the tender shoots, Ivon walked up boldly to the Redskin, and struck him on the shoulder. The Indian, whose eyes were eagerly fixed on the rider, turned to him.

"What does the Paleface want?" he asked him.

"To talk a little with you, Chief."

"The moment is not good for talking," the Indian answered, sententiously; "the Palefaces are like the mockingbird; their tongues must be ever in motion; let my brother wait."

Ivon did not understand the epigram.

"No," he said, "we must talk at once."

The Indian suppressed an impatient gesture.

"The Red Wolf's ears are open," he said; "the Chattering Jay can explain himself."

The Redskins, finding some difficulty in pronouncing the names of people with whom the accidents of the chase or of trade bring them into relation, are accustomed to substitute for these names others, derived from the character or physical aspect of the individual they wish to designate. Ivon was called by the Blackfoot Indians the Chattering Jay, a name whose justice we will refrain from discussing. The Breton did not seem annoyed by what Red Wolf said to him; absorbed by the thought that troubled him, every other consideration was a matter of indifference to him.

"You promised me to save Glass-eye," he said.

"Yes," the Chief answered, laconically.

"I accepted your propositions without discussion; for three hours I have followed you without saying anything; but, before going further, I should not be sorry to know the means you intend to employ to take him out of the hands of the enemy."

"Is my brother deaf?" the Indian asked.

"I do not think so," Ivon answered, rather wounded by the question.

"Then let him listen."

"I am doing so."

"My brother hears nothing?"

"Not the least, I am free to confess."

Red Wolf shrugged his shoulders.

"The Palefaces are foxes without tails," he said, with disdain; "weaker than children in the desert. Let my brother look," he added, pointing to the river.

Ivon followed the direction indicated, winking, and placing his hands over his eyes, to concentrate the visual rays.

"Well," the Indian asked, after a moment, "has my brother seen?"

"Nothing at all," the Breton said, violently. "May the evil one twist my neck, if it is possible for me to distinguish anything."

"Then my brother will wait a few minutes," the Indian said, perfectly calm; "he will then see and hear."

"Hum!" the Breton went on, but slightly satisfied with this explanation. "What shall I see and hear?"

"My brother will know."

Ivon would have insisted, but the Chief took him by the arm, pushed him back, and hid with him behind a clump of trees, where Prairie-Flower was already ensconced.

"Silence!" the Redskin muttered, in such an imperative tone that the Breton, convinced of the gravity of the situation, deferred to a more favourable moment the string of questions he proposed asking the Chief.

A few minutes elapsed. Redskin and Prairie-Flower, with their bodies bent forward, and carefully parting the leaves, looked eagerly in the direction of the river, while holding their breath. Ivon, bothered in spite of himself by this sort of conduct, imitated their example. A sound soon struck on his ears, but so slight and weak, that at first he fancied himself mistaken. Still the noise grew gradually louder, resembling that of paddles cautiously dipped in the water; next, a black dot, at first nearly imperceptible, but which grew larger by degrees, appeared on the river.

There was soon no doubt in the Breton's mind. The black dot was a canoe. On arriving within a certain distance, the sound could be no longer heard, and the canoe remained motionless about halfway between the two banks. At this moment the cry of the jay broke the silence, repeated thrice, with such perfection, that Ivon instinctively raised his head to the upper branches of the tree that sheltered them. Upon this signal, the canoe began drawing nearer the cape, where it soon ran ashore; but upon landing, the person in it raised the paddle twice in the air. The cry of the jay was heard again, thrice repeated.

Upon this, the rower, perfectly reassured, as it seemed, leaped on the sand, drew the canoe half out of the water, and walked boldly in the direction of the clump of trees that served Ivon and his comrades as an observatory. The latter, deeming it useless to wait longer, quitted their shelter, and walked toward the newcomer, after recommending the Breton not to show himself without their authority. This order he obeyed; but, with that prudence which distinguished him, he cocked his pistols, took one in each hand, and, reassured by this precaution, waited what was about to happen.

The new actor who had entered on the scene, and in whom the reader will have recognised Mrs. Margaret, had left Major Melville only about an hour previously, after having that conversation we have repeated. Although she did not expect to meet Prairie-Flower at this spot, she did not appear at all astonished at seeing her, and gave her a friendly nod, to which the girl responded with a smile.

"What is there new?" she asked the Indian.

"Much," he replied.

"Speak."

The Red Wolf thereupon told her all that had happened during the chase; in what way he had learned it, and how Ivon had escaped in order to seek help for his master. Margaret listened to the long story without letting a sign of emotion to be seen on her wrinkled, grief-worn face. When Red Wolf had ceased speaking, she reflected for a few moments; then raising her head, asked —

"Where is the Paleface?"

"Here," the Indian answered, pointing to the clump of trees.

"Let him come."

The Chief turned to fetch him, but the Breton, who had heard the last word spoken in English, and judged that it was intended for him, left his hiding place, after returning the pistols to his belt, and joined the party. At this moment the first gleam of day began to appear, the darkness was rapidly dissipated, and a reddish hue, which formed on the extreme limit of the horizon, indicated that the sun would speedily rise. The She-wolf fixed on the Breton her cunning eye, as if desirous to read the depths of his heart. Ivon had nothing to reproach himself with, and hence he bravely withstood the glance. The She-wolf, satisfied with the dumb interrogatory to which she had subjected the Breton, softened down the harsh expression of her face, and at length addressed him in a voice she attempted to render conciliatory.

"Listen attentively," she said to him.

"I am listening."

"You are devoted to your master?"

"To the death," Ivon answered, firmly.

"Good: then I can reckon on you?"

"Yes."

"You understand, I suppose, that we four cannot save your master?"

"That appears to me difficult, I allow."

"But we wish to revenge ourselves on Natah Otann."

"Very good."

"For a long time our measures have been taken to gain this end at a given moment; that moment has arrived; but we have allies we must warn."

"It is true."

She drew a ring from her finger.

"Take this ring; you know how to use a paddle, I suppose?"

"I am a Breton, that is to say, a sailor."

"Get into the canoe lying there, and without losing a moment, go down the river till you reach a fort."

"Hum! is it far?"

"You will reach it in less than an hour if you are diligent."

"You may be sure of that."

"So soon as you have arrived at the fort, you will ask speech with Major Melville; give him that ring, and tell him all the events of which you have been witness."

"Is that all?"

"No; the Major will give you a detachment of soldiers, with whom you will join us at Black's clearing: can you find your way there again?"

"I think so; especially as it is on the river bank."

"Yes; and you will have to pass it before reaching the fort."

"What shall I do with the canoe?"

"Abandon it."

"When must I start?"

"At once; the sun has risen, we must make haste."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I told you we were going to Black's clearing, where we shall wait for you."

The Breton reflected for a minute.

"Listen, in your turn," he said; "I am not in the habit of discussing orders, when I think those given us are just; I do not think that you intend, under such grave circumstances, to mock a poor devil, whom grief renders half mad, and who would joyfully sacrifice his life to save his master's."

"You are right."

"I am therefore going to obey you."

"You should have done so already."

"Maybe; but I have a last word to say."

"I am listening."

"If you deceive me, if you do not really help me, as you pledge yourself, in saving my master – I am, a coward, that is notorious; but on my word as a man, I will blow out your brains: even were you hidden in the bowels of the earth, I would go and seek you to fulfil my oath. You hear me?"

"Perfectly! and now have you finished?"

"Yes."

"Then be off."

"I am doing so."

"Good-bye, till we meet again."

The Breton bowed once more, pulled the boat into the water, jumped in, and hurried off at a rate which showed he would soon reach his destination. His ex-companions looked after him till he was hidden by a bend in the river.

"And now what are we going to do?" Prairie-Flower asked.

"Go to the clearing, to arrange with John Black."

Margaret mounted Ivon's horse, Prairie-Flower and Red Wolf each took their own, and the three started at a gallop. By a fortunate coincidence, it was a day chosen by the squatter to give his family a rest, and, as we have said, he had gone out with William to take a look at his property. After a long ride, during which the squatter had burst into ecstasies only known to landed proprietors, they were preparing to return to their fortress, when William pointed out to his father the three mounted persons coming towards them at full gallop.

"Hum!" Black said, "Indians, that is an unpleasant meeting! let us hide behind this clump, and try to find out what they want."

"Stay, father," the young man said, "I believe that precaution unnecessary."

"Why so, boy?"

"Because of the party two are women."

"That is no reason," the squatter said, who, since the attack, had become excessively prudent; "you know that in these bad tribes the women fight as well as the men."

"That is true; but stay, they are unfolding a buffalo robe in sign of peace."

In fact, one of the riders at this moment fluttered a robe in the breeze.

"You are right, boy," the squatter observed, presently; "let us await them; the more so, as, if I am not mistaken, I can recognize an old acquaintance among them."

"The woman who saved us, I believe."

"Right; by Jove! the meeting is a strange one. Poor woman, I am delighted to see her again."

Ten minutes later the parties joined; after the first salutations, the She-wolf took the word.

"Do you recognize me, John Black?"

"Of course I do, my worthy woman," he replied, with emotion; "although I only saw you for a few moments, and under terrible circumstances, the remembrance of you has never left my heart and mind; I have only one wish, and that is, that you will give me the opportunity to prove it."

A flash of joy shot from the She-wolfs eye.

"Are you speaking seriously?" she asked, quickly.

"Try me."

"Good; I was not deceived in you. I am glad of what I did. I see that the service I rendered you has not fallen on ungrateful soil."

"Speak."

"Not here: what I have to tell you is too lengthy and serious for us to be able to discuss it properly at this place."

"Will you come to my house? There you need not be afraid of being disturbed."