His piercing glance scarcely rested an instant upon Allie.  He motioned for her to be taken away.  Allie, as she was led back, got a glimpse of the young squaw.  Sullen, with bowed head, and dark rich blood thick in her face, with heaving breast and clenched hands, she presented a picture of outraged pride and jealousy.

Probably the chief had decided to claim Allie as his captive, a decision which would be fiercely resented by the young Indian bride.

The camp quieted down after that.  Allie peeped through a slit between the hides of which her tent was constructed, and she saw no one but squaws and children.  The mustangs appeared worn out.  Evidently the braves and warriors were resting after a hard ride or fight or foray.

Nothing happened.  The hours dragged.  Allie heard the breathing of heavy sleepers.  About dark she was fed again and bound.

That night she was awakened by a gentle shake.  A hand moved from her shoulder to her lips.  The pale moonlight filtered into the tent.  Allie saw a figure kneeling beside her and she heard a whispered “’Sh-s-s-sh!” Then her hands and feet were freed.  She divined then that the young squaw had come to let her go, in the dead of night.  Her heart throbbed high as her liberator held up a side of the tent.  Allie crawled out.  A bright moon soared in the sky.  The camp was silent.  The young woman slipped after her, and with a warning gesture to be silent she led Allie away toward the slope of the valley.  It was a goodly distance.  Not a sound disturbed the peace of the beautiful night.  The air was cold and still.  Allie shivered and trembled.  This was the most exciting adventure of all.  She felt a sudden tenderness and warmth for this Indian girl.  Once the squaw halted, with ear intent, listening.  Allie’s heart stopped beating.  But no bark of dog, no sound of pursuit, justified alarm.  At last they reached the base of the slope.

The Indian pointed high toward the ridge-top.  She made undulating motions of her hand, as if to picture the topography of the ridges, and the valleys between; then kneeling, she made a motion with her finger on the ground that indicated a winding trail.  Whereupon she stealthily glided away—­all without a spoken word.

Allie was left alone—­free—­with direction how to find the trail.  But what use was it for her to find it in that wilderness?  Still, her star kept drawing her spirit.  She began to climb.  The slope was grassy, and her light feet left little trace.  She climbed and climbed until she thought her heart would burst.  Once upon the summit, she fell in the grass and rested.

Far below in the moon-blanched valley lay the white tents and the twinkling camp-fires.  The bay of a dog floated up to her.  It was a tranquil, beautiful scene.  Rising, she turned her back upon it, with a muttered prayer for the Indian girl whose jealousy and generosity had freed her, and again she faced the ridge-top and the unknown wilderness.