"Dan, Dan! what is it?" Natsatt cried, going up to the old man and laying his hand upon his arm. "Have the scoundrels gone? Have they deserted the Post, and left you alone?"
"Gone; the curs have gone!" was the fierce reply. "They have deserted me, and I thought that you had gone too."
"Did you think that I would leave you? Could you not trust me?" Natsatt responded. "I left the Post last night. But I did it to save Owindia. Could you blame me when I knew that she was among those wolves?"
"And did you find her?" questioned Dan with some of his old eagerness. "Did you bring her back?"
"Yes, I found her, and have brought her with me, but—"
"But what?" Dan demanded, noticing the young man hesitate.
"She is sick."
"Sick? do you say? What is the matter with her?"
"Fever, I fear, which has unbalanced her mind for a time. Is there anything we can do for her?"
"Where is she?" and Dan stepped to the door as if expecting to see the maiden in the outer room.