Madeline pressed her left hand to her heart. It did not seem possible that the venerable man who had talked so kindly to her but a short time before should now be lying cold in death. What would happen next!
"Where is he?" she faintly asked. "Why did they not bring him in here?"
"They've taken 'im inter the church, miss. The Injuns thought it would be the best place. I guess I'll have to read the Burial Service to-morrer. My! it was a sight to see 'im stand thar in the midst of that rain of lead, an' try to git them Injuns to stop their fightin'! I've seen some brave deeds in me life, miss, an' things that 'ud make yer blood turn to icicles. But that scene beat 'em all."
"And were you hemmed in by the Indians the whole day?" Madeline questioned.
"Only fer part of the night and mornin'."
"How did you manage to find Donnie and get back to the cave?"
"It was this way, miss," and in a few words Dan related the experience through which they had passed the night before. It was a simple tale, told in his own quaint style, with all embellishment left out. It thrilled Madeline's heart, and she looked fondly into the honest, rugged face. She had known him only as Buckskin Dan, the trapper. Formerly he had figured little in her thoughts. But she saw beneath his rough exterior now and knew him as never before.
"And you did all that for the little child!" she mused when he had finished. "You risked your own life to find him and to bring him back to his mother! You are a noble man."
"Tut, tut, miss; that was nothin'. Anyone 'ud have done that much, an' more. But come, we've been talkin' too long, seems to me. This poor chap needs grub. He hasn't tasted a bite fer some time."
"Nor you, either," interposed Madeline.