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So utterly absorbed was she that the hiss of warning, or perhaps of hatred, with which Lola greeted the sudden coming of Angela, seemed to fall unnoted on her ears. Lola, her black eyes snapping and her lips compressed, glanced up at the white girl almost in fury. Natzie, paying no heed whatever to what was occurring about her, knelt breathless at her post, watching, eagerly watching.

Against her own people Natzie would protect Blakely, even were they demanding his life in turn for her Indian lover, Shield's. If these girls can be tracked and found, I believe you will have found Blakely and will find Angela."

Behind the spot where Natzie knelt, the general slope was broken by a narrow ledge or platform, bowlder-strewn from which, almost vertically, rose the rocky scarp again. Among the sturdy, stunted fir trees, bearding the rugged face, frowned a deep fissure, dark as a wolf den, and, just in front of it, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, crouched Lola Natzie's shadow.

It is hard to think of her barred in that hideous place with Apache prisoners and rude men all about her." But again was Mrs. Plume unresponsive. She would say no word of interest in either Angela or Natzie. At the moment when her husband was in melting mood and when a hint from her lips would have secured the partial release of the Indian girl, the hint was withheld.

The hand that sought hers fairly shook, but that, said Angela, though she well knew better, might have been from weakness or from riding. For a moment he did not speak. It was she who began. She thought he should know at once. "Did you hear her singing too?" she hazarded. "Hear? Who?" he replied, grudgingly letting go the hand because it pulled with such determination. "Why Natzie, I suppose.

Another minute and he was out of sight among the shrubbery. Another, and she heard the single shot of a revolver, and there he stood at the rocky point, a smoking pistol in his hand. Instantly the song ceased, and then his voice was uplifted, calling, "Natzie! Natzie!"

Blakely had won their undying gratitude, and Stout and Arnold saw now why it was that one young brave, at least, could not share the love his people bore for Gran Capitan Blanco that one was Quonothay the Chief Raven Shield. They saw now why poor Natzie had no heart to give her Indian lover.

"Ah, Miss Angela! only one place will ever be home to Natzie now. Her eyes will tell you that."

It would have been better for her, for her husband, for more than one brave lad on guard, had the major's wife seen fit to speak, but she would not. So that evening brought release that, in itself, brought much relief to the commanding officer and the friends who still stood by him. Thirty-six hours now had Natzie been a prisoner behind the bars, and no one of those we know had seen her face.

It was late in the day when she managed to find Angela away from her father, who, realizing what Natzie had done and suffered to save his own ewe lamb, was now in keen distress of mind because powerless to raise a hand to aid her. He wondered that Angela seemed so unresponsive that she did not flare up in protest at such degrading punishment for the girl who had saved her life.