“It would be a long story, if I should tell it all, and I will be content with a few words. I am William Robinette. I was in business with my brother, in my younger days; but he always hated me and persecuted me. After he married, he drove me away, appropriating my share of the business. I determined to be revenged upon him. When I left the country, I took with me his first-born child, a daughter, who, if she were alive, would be nearly two years older than Flora.”
“Is she dead?” asked Flora.
“I do not know. I took up my abode among the Indians, and cared for her tenderly, until she was five years old, when she disappeared, and I was never able to find the least trace of her. My love for her had become so strong, that my vengeance was turned against myself. I have risen to be a chief of the Crows, and am thoroughly an Indian. If Martin Laurie is inclined to dispute my identity, there are old trappers in the mountains who can prove that I am William Robinette.”
The Scotchman, relying on the assistance of the employés of the post, would have resisted the authority of Flora and her uncle; but Bad Eye was backed by a strong force of warriors, and he submitted with as good a grace as he could assume. His submission did not come soon enough to save his position. Flora Robinette turned over the management of her business to George Benning, and Laurie and Farnsworth soon left for the East.
It was not long before Benning and Flora followed them, with a sufficient escort of mountain-men, Fred Wilder having become so far convalescent as to be able to take charge of the business at the rendezvous. Bad Eye accompanied them some distance on their journey; but they in vain endeavored to persuade him to return to civilized life.
“I am no longer a white man,” he said. “I love the Crows, and the remainder of my life shall be spent among them.”
At St. Louis the young couple were married, the provisions of Paul Robinette’s will were fairly complied with, and his gray scalp, after being subjected to such severe vicissitudes, found a quiet resting-place in consecrated ground.
White Shield remained with Silverspur at the rendezvous, feeling that he had nowhere else to go.
“I have left the Blackfeet,” he said, “I have betrayed the Arapahoes, and I have no people.”