The spot was at some distance from the village, the trees grew thick and high, and the path between them was narrow and winding, and easily lost; but the girl had evidently been there before, for when she reached the opening in front of the pool she looked around her with an air of security.
Walden, leaving the lodge, went to the chiefs, whom he found gathered in council.
"Who is Young Elk?" demanded Walden.
"He is my kinsman," said one of the chiefs.
"He is a meddler!" snarled the renegade. "I will kill him if he does not take care!"
"No, False Heart will not!" cried the old chief. "False Heart lies, he has told crooked tales of the paleface, he is a bad man. He would make us go on the warpath when the whites have not wronged us. It is he who will have to take care lest Young Elk kill him!"
Inflamed with rage, Walden left the council and hurried into the forest. As he hurried along the narrow path he was followed by Young Elk.
Reaching the opening, Walden found Grace upon her knees at the edge of the pool. "I cannot bear to leave this bright world," she murmured, "but I could not bear the disgrace, the shame of being that man's wife! Oh! why is there no one to help me?"
"Die, if you will have it so!" cried the renegade, raising his hand to strike.
Upon the instant, the young Indian who had been trailing him, sprang forward, seized the renegade by the throat and hurled him into the pool.