“Loo herself, I reckon.”

“Nonsense! You’re jesting, Cash?”

“No, uncle; I’m in earnest.”

“You mean to say my daughter has been here?”

“Has been—still is, I take it.”

“Impossible?”

“Look yonder, then!”

The door has just been opened. A female form is seen inside.

“Good God, it is my daughter!”

Poindexter drops from his saddle, and hastens up to the hut—close followed by Calhoun. Both go inside.