A step in the room startled her, and looking somewhat guiltily around, she saw Sconda advancing toward her.  The Indian was excited more than usual, at which Glen wondered, for she had never seen him so agitated before.

“See, see!” and he pointed out of the window up toward the wild meadow.

“What is it?” Glen asked, brushing away her tears in an effort to see more clearly.

“White man!  Running, all same wolf.  Ugh!”

Glen looked, and saw a man speeding across the meadow right on the trail of her father and Reynolds.  Instantly she grasped its meaning, and with a cry of fear she turned to the Indian.

“Is it Curly?” she gasped.  “Do you think he means any harm?”

“Curly follow Big White Chief,” was the reply.  “Curly track white man.  Bimeby Curly shoot.”

“Oh! do you think so?” Glen clasped her hands before her, while her eyes grew big with apprehension.  “What can we do?  I know.  You go after that man, and stop him.  Never mind me, for I am all right.  Look,” and she thrust her hand into the bosom of her riding-dress and brought forth her revolver.  “I can shoot and take care of myself.  Go at once and save daddy and Mr. Reynolds.”

Sconda needed no second bidding, for he was anxious to be away.  His fears had vanished at the presence of the skulking enemy, and no matter how he might tremble at the thought of unseen ghostly foes, he was never known to flinch before the face of a living earthly being.  Glen knew that he was the finest trailsman in the north, and she felt more satisfied as she watched him, rifle in hand, disappear amid the trees.

For some time she stood at the window, straining her eyes to see Sconda reappear and cross the wild meadow.  But she watched in vain, for the native had taken another route, which, though rougher, was less exposed to view.

Glen was about to turn away from the window, when, happening to glance to her left, she saw someone coming from the lake toward the house.  She recognized him immediately.  It was Curly!  At first she imagined that she must be dreaming, for was not Curly away on the trail of her father and Reynolds?  What did it all mean?  Sconda must have been mistaken, for there was the villain walking cautiously from the shore.  Intuitively Glen placed her hand to her heart, as if to stop its wild beating, while she tried to think of some way of escape.  What should she do?  Where could she go? she frantically asked herself.  But she must not remain there, for she was well aware of the purpose of Curly’s visit.  He had planned a plot with the assistance of someone as vile as himself, and had caught her in his trap.  But he should not take her in the house, and she knew it would be useless to fasten the door against him.  She would meet him in the open, and if it came to the worst she knew what she could do.  Her hand touched her heaving bosom where the revolver was resting, and it somewhat calmed her fears, and inspired her with courage.