She nodded, watching him with bright eyes.
“She was a lovely woman. She was a white woman. It was true she was Oak Heart’s wife, but she had been espoused before by a good and great white man. He was killed by Oak Heart’s people, and for a time your mother was stricken by the mercy of the Great Spirit with forgetfulness.
“When she came to herself she believed that her husband and her son were dead. She became Oak Heart’s squaw. But her son was not dead. I had saved him from the Indians, and he lived to grow up——”
Danforth raised himself up with a great cry.
“You do not mean it! It is impossible!” he cried. “This girl——?”
“Is your sister. White Antelope, this young man is your elder brother—and a mighty fine fellow you’ll find him. Your mother was the finest woman I ever knew, and your father, Dick—God help him!—was once the finest fellow in the world!”
The scout choked and was silent. He was thinking of that awful, convulsed face of the Mad Hunter as he fell backward from the summit of the bluff, with Texas Jack’s bullet in his brain!
“He—he is my brother?” murmured the girl, her eyes shining.
“That’s what he is,” said the scout, recovering himself and speaking heartily.
She went to Danforth and put both her hands in his. The young fellow suddenly pulled her down to him and kissed her on the lips.