"Has he roused up?" he questioned of the trooper on guard.

"Not to know nuthin', sir. He's bin swearin' an' gurglin' most o' ther

time, but he's asleep now, I reckon."

The young officer stood silent, his face pale, his gaze upon the

distant Indian fires. Out yonder were defeat, torture, death, and

to-morrow meant a renewal of the struggle. His heart was heavy with

foreboding, his memory far away with one to whom all this misfortune

might come almost as a death-blow. It was Naida's questioning face

that haunted him; she was waiting for she knew not what.




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