Glen went at once into the cabin, and the coolness of the place was a great relief to the intense heat outside.  She watched from the window as Sconda conducted Curly down along the shore of the lake until they disappeared from view.

In about a quarter of an hour Sconda returned.  Glen met him at the door, and enquired anxiously about her father and Reynolds.  She spoke in the Indian language, and this always pleased Sconda.  His face brightened, and as he looked at the animated face before him his lips parted in a smile.

“The white men are safe,” he told her.  “They will come into camp by and by.”

“And where is Dan?” Glen enquired.  “Did you see him?”

“Ah, ah.  Dan tried to shoot the white men, but Sconda was too quick.  Dan now all same sleep.”

“Not dead, is he?”

“No, no; all same sleep.”

“Unconscious, eh?”

“Ah, ah.”

“And so you came to tell me that daddy and Mr. Reynolds are safe?”

“Sconda ran away.  Big White Chief wanted Sconda to help carry Dan into camp.  But Sconda run away fast.”

“Why?”

“Sconda think maybe Curly here.  Sconda was right, eh?”

“Oh, I understand,” Glen replied.  Her eyes were shining with gratitude as she turned them upon the face of her valiant protector.  “You thought I might be in danger.  You knew that Dan and Curly had plotted together, and that when Curly was not out there he must be here trying to harm me.  How can I thank you, Sconda, for what you have done for me to-day?  I do not know what would have happened had you not come just when you did.”

“Missie Glen hold up Curly, all same man, eh?” and Sconda smiled.

“Indeed I did.  But I could not have stood it much longer, I was afraid that I would have to shoot him.”

“Why did Missie Glen not let Sconda shoot Curly?”

“Because it would be murder, that’s why.  If you had shot Curly, the Mounted Police would take you away, and most likely hang you.  Just think of that.”

“But Curly bad, ugh!”

“I know that, Sconda.  But it wouldn’t make any difference.  You would be considered a murderer, and I don’t want to lose you yet.  And, remember, Sconda, don’t you dare to tell anyone that Curly was here.”

“Sconda no tell!  Why?”

“Because if daddy hears of it, he will be so angry that he will kill Curly.  You must not tell anyone, so daddy and Mr. Reynolds will know nothing about it.  You will promise, won’t you, Sconda?”

With considerable reluctance Sconda agreed to keep the secret.  He knew that it was not the wisest thing to do, for he was fully convinced that Curly should be punished.  But he would do anything rather than displease his young mistress, for whom he had such an unbounded admiration.

“Missie Glen hungry, eh?” he unexpectedly asked.

“I really don’t know,” Glen laughingly replied.  “I have not had time to think about it.  Are you?”