"No shoot again. Need bullets for wolves. Come around soon," said Singing Bird.
The day was going fast, and soon it would be dark. She could not leave the girl to go for help, for with the dark the wolves would come.
Singing Bird had fallen into a feverish doze, and Stella arose and gathered up some dry wood from about the spring, and carried it to where the girl was lying.
Stella had some matches in her outfit, and when it got dark she intended lighting the fire, hoping that the boys would see it when they came to look for her when she did not return at dark.
Again she brought water from the spring, and sat down beside her new-found friend to bathe her head and reduce her fever.
As darkness fell she heard vague rustlings in the tall grass, and looked carefully about. In the dim light she saw pale-green lights moving about, and knew that the wolves had smelled blood, and were gathering. But she was not afraid. She knew that she could keep them away with the fire and her revolver.
One of the wolves came quite close to the little camp and set up a howl, and the Indian girl awoke.
"White girl go to her friends," she said to Stella. "Leave Singing Bird to die as the Great Manitou intended."
"Indeed, I will not. I will stay with you until my friends come to me, and then we will take you with us and nurse you."
Stella thought it was time to light the fire, and as its flames leaped high, she felt more at ease.