dering around in the snow, singing and making queer noises, and so I brought her here.”
“But what happened to her? How did she come to be wandering about alone?”
“It was due to a devil who calls himself a man,” Hugo savagely replied. “I’m just longing to get my hands on that skunk, and I’ll—”
Hugo paused without finishing his sentence, and the doubled-up first of his right hand shot straight before him. There was no doubt about what he would do should he come across the man responsible for Zell’s condition.
Just then Tom entered, and laid a supply of food upon the table. He looked first at Hugo, whom he well knew, and then at the covered form on the cot. Indian like, he made no comment, but drew the missionary’s attention to the food.
“Never mind that now, Tom,” Mr. Norris replied. “Go and bring Kate here at once. I want her to look after the girl over there. I don’t know what to do for her. She should have a woman’s care, anyway.”
“Is the white girl very sick, Gikhi?”
“I am afraid so. She has had a hard time on the trail, and her head is queer.”
Tom at once left the building, and in a remarkably short time he was back again with his wife close at his heels. The latter, a stout, motherly-looking woman, went at once to the side of the cot. She turned back the blanket, and when she had drawn aside the hood which almost concealed the girl’s face, she uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“What’s the matter, Kate?” the missionary asked, hurrying to her side.
The Indian woman made no reply, but pointed ex-
