"Me Young Elk. Me live far off, me come to village, me have friend."
"Well, Mr. Young Elk, this is my squaw, and you will take yourself off and mind your——"
"Paleface lie! The white flower is not his squaw!" the young Indian replied.
"Get out of here!" hissed the renegade.
"No! Young Elk stay. White flower need friend. Me be her friend."
"Blame you!" hissed Walden. "We'll see if any mere boy can defy me! Out of the way, dog!"
"No," said the Indian. "Not while white flower stay. Young Elk be friend to white woman; bad paleface shall not strike."
"Thank you, my friend, but I fear him not," said Grace.
"I will conquer you yet!" hissed the renegade, as he rushed from the lodge, the Indian boy having stepped aside.
As soon as Walden had gone, Grace left the lodge and hurried into the forest, where she ran on till she reached a pool of water which made its way swiftly into a cave amid the great ledges of rock.