But he was beginning to comprehend that Long-Hair, for some inscrutable reason of his own, was desirous of making a friendship between them.

The thought was bewildering.
Long-Hair fumbled in his pouch and took out Alice's locket, which he handed to Beverley.

"White man love little girl ?" he inquired in a tone that bordered upon tenderness, again speaking in Indian.
Beverley clutched the disk as soon as he saw it gleam in the star-light.
"White man going to have little girl for his squaw--eh ?" "Yes, yes," cried Beverley without hearing his own voice.

He was trying to open the locket but his hands were numb and trembling.

When at last he did open it he could not see the child face within, for now even the star-light was shut off by a scudding black cloud.
"Little girl saved Long-Hair's life.