“Oh, yes, often I hope.  You see, if I marry Myeerah the Hurons will allow me every liberty.”

“Well, that puts a different light on the subject.”

“Oh, how I wish you and Jonathan could have seen Thundercloud and his two hundred warriors ride into Cornplanter’s camp.  It was magnificent!  The braves were all crowded near the stake where I was bound.  The fire had been lighted.  Suddenly the silence was shattered by an awful yell.  It was Thundercloud’s yell.  I knew it because I had heard it before, and anyone who had once heard that yell could never forget it.  In what seemed an incredibly short time Thundercloud’s warriors were lined up in the middle of the camp.  The surprise was so complete that, had it been necessary, they could have ridden Cornplanter’s braves down, killed many, routed the others, and burned the village.  Cornplanter will not get over that surprise in many a moon.”

Betty had always hated the very mention of the Indian girl who had been the cause of her brother’s long absence from home.  But she was so happy in the knowledge of his return that she felt that it was in her power to forgive much; more over, the white, weary face of the Indian maiden touched Betty’s warm heart.  With her quick intuition she had divined that this was even a greater trial for Myeerah.  Undoubtedly the Indian girl feared the scorn of her lover’s people.  She showed it in her trembling hands, in her fearful glances.

Finding that Myeerah could speak and understand English, Betty became more interested in her charge every moment.  She set about to make Myeerah comfortable, and while she removed the wet and stained garments she talked all the time.  She told her how happy she was that Isaac was alive and well.  She said Myeerah’s heroism in saving him should atone for all the past, and that Isaac’s family would welcome her in his home.

Gradually Myeerah’s agitation subsided under Betty’s sweet graciousness, and by the time Betty had dressed her in a white gown, had brushed the dark hair and added a bright ribbon to the simple toilet, Myeerah had so far forgotten her fears as to take a shy pleasure in the picture of herself in the mirror.  As for Betty, she gave vent to a little cry of delight.  “Oh, you are perfectly lovely,” cried Betty.  “In that gown no one would know you as a Wyandot princess.”

“Myeerah’s mother was a white woman.”

“I have heard your story, Myeerah, and it is wonderful.  You must tell me all about your life with the Indians.  You speak my language almost as well as I do.  Who taught you?”

“Myeerah learned to talk with the White Eagle.  She can speak French with the Coureurs-des-bois.”

“That’s more than I can do, Myeerah.  And I had French teacher,” said Betty, laughing.

“Hello, up there,” came Isaac’s voice from below.

“Come up, Isaac,” called Betty.

“Is this my Indian sweetheart?” exclaimed Isaac, stopping at the door.  “Betty, isn’t she—­”