He made no reply to the last assertion, that he should know her secret, but waited with the calm patience of an Indian.
"It was two years ago," she at last said, "that I was ambushed on a trail near home, and we will pass the spot to-day. My horse was brought down by a shot, I fell, though unhurt, and as three Indians rushed upon me I managed to fire upon them with my revolver. One fell dead, and——"
"Ah! you were plucky."
"I was acting in self-defence; but the other two seized me, and what my fate would have been, Heaven only knows, had not a Sioux chief come to my rescue. He was wounded, but killed my two foes, and then told me that the three ambushers were bad young men of his tribe. He told me that his people would avenge their deaths upon the whites, and the secret must be kept."
"He was wise."
"Yes, and he buried those bodies, wounded as he was, where no one has ever found them, and his people regard them as renegades from the tribe to-day. He brought my saddle and bridle that night to my home, and then went his way, and for weeks was laid up with his wounds. That chief was Red Hatchet, Lieutenant Carey."
"He had some strong motive for keeping the secret from his people?"
"Yes, he said that it was his love for me, and that there were men of his tribe who would seek revenge upon me."
"Very true, and upon himself, for killing them to protect you."
"I had not thought of that, yet it is so. But I told my father, and he told my brother; but otherwise the secret has been kept."