She merely settled back on the pine boughs, and again looked dully up at the pale, cold stars that cared so little for her or hers.
Henry crept another yard nearer, and then he uttered that low noise, sibilant and warning, which the woman, the product of the border, knew to be made by a human being.

She raised herself a little, although it was difficult with her bound hands to sit upright, and saw a dark shadow approaching her.

That dark shadow she knew to be the figure of a man.

An Indian would not be approaching in such a manner, and she looked again, startled into a sudden acute attention, and into a belief that the incredible, the impossible, was about to happen.

A voice came from the figure, and its quality was that of the white voice, not the red.
"Do not move," said that incredible voice out of the unknown.