“Ah, ah; Sconda hungry.”

“Well, then, you can get dinner ready, and perhaps I shall be able to eat something, too.”

Sconda at once set to work, and in a remarkably short time he had a simple meal prepared.  He served Glen first, and waited upon her until she had finished.

“How long will it take the men to come back?” Glen asked as she rose from the table.

“Till sundown, maybe,” was the reply.  “Dan is heavy and hard to carry.”

“Well, then, I am going to lie down for a while, Sconda.  I did not sleep any last night, and the excitement of to-day has made me very tired.  You will keep watch around the cabin, will you not?”

“Ah, ah, Sconda will watch.  Sconda will shoot Curly if he comes back.”

“Oh, I guess Curly will not come here again, especially when he knows that I have such a noble protector.”

Sconda was pleased at these words of praise, and after he had eaten his dinner he sat and smoked contentedly before the door of the cabin.  He was happier than he had been in many a day.  He had saved the white men, knocked out Dan, rescued his master’s daughter, and headed Curly for Big Draw.  His only regret was that he had not been allowed to shoot Curly, and thus rid the earth of another villain.

Glen was completely wearied out, and a few minutes after her head touched the pillow she was fast asleep.  She slept soundly for several hours, and when she awoke the shadows of night were stealing in through the little window.  The sound of voices in the adjoining room informed her that her father and Reynolds had returned.  She also heard the rattle of dishes and knew that Sconda was preparing supper.  Hastily arranging her hair, and with a final glance in the small mirror, she softly opened the door.  Weston and Reynolds were already seated at the table, while the lighted lamp told Glen that it was later than she had imagined.

“Hello!” Weston accosted, as he turned and beheld his daughter.  “You are a sound sleeper.  Been sleeping all day, I suppose!”

Reynolds had risen to his feet the instant Glen appeared, and he waited until she had taken her place at the table ere he resumed his seat.  He was pleased to see her looking so bright and animated.  The color had returned to her cheeks, and the expression of fear had vanished from her eyes.

“Where is the wounded man, daddy?” Glen at once asked.

“In the bunk out there,” and Weston motioned to the kitchen.  “He doesn’t deserve all the trouble we’ve had to-day.  My, he was a heavy load!  And to think that Sconda should have run away and left us.  I wonder what came over the rascal?”

“Is Dan seriously wounded, do you think?” Glen enquired, evading her father’s reference to Sconda.

“No, just a scratch, which made him unconscious for a time.  He’ll be all right in a few days, I am sorry to say.  Such a treacherous creature is better dead than alive.”