When he had finished, the rescued captive seized his hand between both her own, and thanked him warmly.

“Had it not been for you, sir, no one but our God knows what would have been my fate.  Oh! sir, what can I do, more than to thank you a thousand times, to repay you for the great service you have rendered me?”

“Nothing, lady; nothing that I think of at present.  Was it not my duty, while I had the power, to free you from the hands of those barbarians?  Certainly it was, and I deserve no thanks.  But tell me, what is your name, and were your friends all killed in the train from which you were taken?”

“I had no friends, sir, save a lady whose acquaintance I made on the journey out from Cheyenne.  As to my name—­you can call me Miss Terry.”

“Mystery!” in blank amazement.

“Yes;” with a gay laugh—­“Mystery, if you choose.  My name is Alice Terry.”

“Oh!” and the youth began to brighten.  “Miss Terry, to be sure; Mystery! ha! ha! good joke.  I shall call you the latter.  Have you friends and relatives East?”

“No.  I came West to meet my father, who is somewhere in the Black Hills.”

“Do you know at what place?”

“I do not.”

“I fear it will be a hard matter to find him, then.  The Hills now have a floating population of about twenty-five thousand souls.  Your father would be one to find out of that lot.”

A faint smile came over the girl’s face.  “I should know papa among fifty thousand, if necessary;” she said, “although I have not seen him for years.”

She failed to mention how many, or what peculiarities she would recognize him by.  Was he blind, deaf or dumb?

Fearless Frank glanced around him, and saw that a path rugged and steep led up to the prairie above.

“Come,” he said, offering his arm, “we will get up to the plains and go.”

“Where to?” asked Miss Terry, rising with an effort.  The welts across her back were swollen and painful.

“Deadwood is my destination.  I can deviate my course, however, if it will accommodate you.”

“Oh! no; you must not inconvenience yourself on my account.  I am of little or no consequence, you know.”

She leaned upon his arm, and they ascended the path to the plain above.

Frank’s horse was grazing near by where the scarlet youth had taken his unceremonious tumble.

Off to the north-west a cloud of dust rose heavenward, and he rightly conjectured that it hid from view the chieftain, Sitting Bull, and his warriors.

His thoughts reverting to his companion, “General” Nix, and the train of Charity Joe, he glanced toward where he had last seen them.

Neither were to be seen, now.  Probably Nix had rejoined the train, and it was out of eye-shot behind a swell in the plains.

“Were you looking for some one?” Alice asked, looking into her rescuer’s face.