Perhaps, it's only the memory of that awful night with Wetzel." "An Indian feels so when he passes to his unmarked grave," answered Winds, gazing solemnly at him.

"Whispering Winds does not like this fancy of yours.

Let us leave Beautiful Spring.

You are almost well.
Ah! if Whispering Winds should lose you! I love you!" "And I love you, my beautiful wild flower," answered Joe, stroking the dark head so near his own.
A tender smile shone on his face.

He heard a slight noise without the cave, and, looking up, saw that which caused the smile to fade quickly.
"Mose!" he called, sharply.