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Updated: May 16, 2025
Will you let me have it?" Sconda shook his head as he again felt the skin. "Missie Glen get skin bimeby." "Is it for her?" "Ah, ah. She want skin. She send Injuns to Deep Gulch. She tell Sconda make good skin. Bimeby Missie Glen put skin in room, all sam' dis," and Sconda stooped and spread his hands over the ground. Reynolds understood, and his heart bounded with joy.
"I have no fear now of any danger lurking within those dark shadows, such as I had the last time we were here." "And were you fearful then?" Reynolds asked. "Indeed I was, for I thought Curly might be lurking around. He was here that day, and I do not mind confessing it now." She then briefly told of Curly's visit, and how she had guarded him until Sconda arrived.
And, in fact, she never learned, for at this critical moment Sconda bounded from the forest and stood by her side. A cry of joy escaped Glen's lips as she beheld her deliverer and knew that she was saved.
As Curly still made no effort to rise, Glen uttered just two Indian words to Sconda. The latter immediately turned and roared a command to his followers. At once half a dozen natives sprang eagerly forward, but before they could lay hands upon him Curly was on his feet, trembling violently. He leaped aside from the natives, his face ghastly pale. "Keep them off!" he yelled.
But a mighty roar from Sconda paralyzed their hands, causing them to drop by their sides as the baffled men stared sullenly upon almost a score of rifles pointing straight at their hearts. It seemed to Reynolds as if he must be beholding a vision, so wonderful did it all appear. He gazed upon Glen with intense admiration.
"Unconscious, eh?" Weston queried as he stooped and felt the man's pulse. "He's alive, all right, but bleeding. Did you shoot him, Sconda?" "Ah, ah, Sconda shoot." "Why did you shoot him?" "Dan shoot first. Dan shoot at Big White Chief," and Sconda pointed to the cave across the ravine. Weston looked at Reynolds as the light of comprehension dawned upon his mind.
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?"
So Glen was going to keep the skin as a souvenir of her rescue on Crooked Trail. Then she must care something for him after all, more than he had expected. The thought made him happier than he had been for days, and he was grateful to Sconda for what he had told him. That afternoon Glen came again to see him.
It was the first time she had ever spoken to him in such a manner, and he stood silently watching the girl as she settled herself in the canoe, and dipped her paddle into the water. Then he wended his way slowly homeward, wondering what had come over his young imperious mistress. But Glen was not thinking about Sconda, and she had no idea that she had in any way annoyed the faithful native.
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.
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