George Benning searched faithfully for Dove-eye. He was so glad to learn that he had not to fear Wilder as a rival, that he thought he could not do too much to help that young gentleman to the dusky maiden upon whom he had really set his heart.
But all their search was in vain. With Flora to guide him, he ransacked the empty lodge, and hunted in every nook and crevice among the rocks. Flora made the hills echo with the name of her friend, and Benning pressed into the search all the Crows he met, but no trace could be found of Dove-eye or the old medicine-man.
Wilder knew, as soon as they entered the cave, that the Indian girl had not been found. The sorrowful countenance of Flora told him this, and he felt as one who has sustained a great loss.
“You need tell me nothing about it,” he said. “I felt surethat it would be so. She is lost, and here I am, on my back, more helpless than a child.”
“You are not helpless while we are here to help you,” replied Benning. “White Shield and I will do all that any man can do; but we can stay here no longer. The Crows are anxious to leave, and we will only have time to make a litter to carry you in.”
“Never mind me. Leave me here. I am of no use to myself or any one else, and I may as well die here as elsewhere.”
“You must go with us,” protested Flora. “Do you suppose I could think of leaving you here to die—you, who saved me from the Blackfeet, and who have been so kind to me? You will soon get well if you go with us, and you would be sure to perish here.”
“I have no wish to go. I had rather be left here. Dove-eye will return when you are gone, and I will see her.”
Flora looked appealingly at White Shield.
“Silverspur must go,” said the Blackfoot. “The Great Spirit has taken away his mind. We will carry him.”
White Shield and Benning went out, and soon constructed a horse-litter, making a bed by stretching a blanket across the poles and piling furs upon it. They then procured the assistance of some Crows to help them lift the invalid.
Wilder protested against the removal; but he was carried out, in spite of his protests, and placed in the litter, to which horses were hitched in front and rear, and the party set out to join the Crows, who were collecting together on the prairie beyond the mountain.
Flora wished to be taken to her father’s old rendezvous on Green River, and Bad Eye was willing that the Crows should escort her to that place and encamp a while at the rendezvous. Wilder, as he had been brought against his will, had no choice but to accompany the rest. George Benning was bound to go where Flora went, and White Shield wished to be with Silverspur.
The Crows set off that evening in high glee. They had taken many scalps, and had captured numbers of horses, and were sure to meet with a grand reception at home. They were in strong force, too, and had no reason to fear any reverseon the way. Straggling parties of Arapahoes hung around them during the first four days, hoping to recover some of the horses that had been taken from them, but the Crows kept such a good guard, that they abandoned the attempt.
The journey was very pleasant to most of the travelers, and quite safe to all. George Benning had liberty and time enough to make Flora acquainted with the state of his feelings toward her, and he soon learned that she was not indifferent to him. In fact, before they had traveled many days together, he had asked her to allow him to be her protector through life, and she had granted the request.
Their happiness did not prevent the lovers from paying proper attention to Fred Wilder. His wounds were carefully dressed by Benning and the Crow chief, and Flora neglected no opportunity of providing for his comfort. White Shield was continually at the side of Silverspur, and Bad Eye was so evidently absorbed in Flora, that George Benning declared that he was almost inclined to be jealous of the old chief.
In due course of time they reached the rendezvous. The Crows encamped in the valley, and Bad Eye, with the Blackfoot and his white friends, entered the inclosure that surrounded the post which had been erected at that place.
Martin Laurie was greatly surprised at the arrival of Flora, in such company, and with such an escort; but he was very glad to see her, or pretended to be, and treated her with the greatest deference. In accordance with her wishes, he fitted up a room in the fort for Silverspur, and the wounded man was made as comfortable as possible. The Scotchman remained very obedient to Flora—servilely so, indeed—until he perceived her intimacy with Benning, and was informed of the relations that had been established between them. Then he thought it was time for him to drop the mask, and his demeanor became unbearably insolent, as if he desired a rupture with the daughter of his late employer. Benning wished to chastise him; but was withheld by Flora, who remembered her father’s respect for the man.
The rupture soon came, nevertheless. He entered Silverspur’s room, where the young lady was seated, with Benning and White Shield and the Crow chief. His behavior was sooverbearing, that she was forced to tell him that she had borne his insolence as long as she could, and must give him notice that he was no longer wanted there.
“I don’t know that you have to say any thing about it, Miss,” replied Laurie.
“Am I not my father’s daughter?”
“I suppose you are; but that don’t give you any say-so about his property. I am in trust here under the directions of Mr. Robinette, and I may have to continue in trust under the law. It is certain that you will have no right to the property until you marry, and it is very doubtful whether you will have any right to interfere with it then.”
“I propose to marry.”
“That fellow there? Very well. Under your father’s will, half of his property will go to the man who recovers his scalp from the Indians, and you will have to marry that man, whoever he may be, or you will get nothing but the income of the other half. I am of the opinion that I will have to remain in charge here, under the law, until we hear from Paul Robinette’s scalp.”
“Here it is,” said George Benning, unwrapping a cloth that he had taken from his breast, and showing the gray scalp.
Laurie started back in astonishment. He recognized the thin white hair of his late employer; but by what fatality had it come into the possession of George Benning?
“It is an imposition!” he exclaimed. “I don’t believe it. How can you prove that that thing is genuine?”
“I can prove it,” said Fred Wilder.
“I may as well tell you, Mr. Laurie,” said Flora, “that your conversation with Farnsworth, when he told you the provisions of my father’s will, was overheard. The revelations that were then made have placed us in the position we now occupy. I suppose you will no longer object to my having a voice in the management of my father’s property.”
“If there should be any objection, I can quiet it,” said Bad Eye, speaking in very good English. “As the nearest living relative of this young lady, I am her natural guardian.”
All looked at the Crow chief in surprise, and Flora begged him to explain.
“It would be a long story, if I should tell it all, and I will be content with a few words. I am William Robinette. I was in business with my brother, in my younger days; but he always hated me and persecuted me. After he married, he drove me away, appropriating my share of the business. I determined to be revenged upon him. When I left the country, I took with me his first-born child, a daughter, who, if she were alive, would be nearly two years older than Flora.”
“Is she dead?” asked Flora.
“I do not know. I took up my abode among the Indians, and cared for her tenderly, until she was five years old, when she disappeared, and I was never able to find the least trace of her. My love for her had become so strong, that my vengeance was turned against myself. I have risen to be a chief of the Crows, and am thoroughly an Indian. If Martin Laurie is inclined to dispute my identity, there are old trappers in the mountains who can prove that I am William Robinette.”
The Scotchman, relying on the assistance of the employés of the post, would have resisted the authority of Flora and her uncle; but Bad Eye was backed by a strong force of warriors, and he submitted with as good a grace as he could assume. His submission did not come soon enough to save his position. Flora Robinette turned over the management of her business to George Benning, and Laurie and Farnsworth soon left for the East.
It was not long before Benning and Flora followed them, with a sufficient escort of mountain-men, Fred Wilder having become so far convalescent as to be able to take charge of the business at the rendezvous. Bad Eye accompanied them some distance on their journey; but they in vain endeavored to persuade him to return to civilized life.
“I am no longer a white man,” he said. “I love the Crows, and the remainder of my life shall be spent among them.”
At St. Louis the young couple were married, the provisions of Paul Robinette’s will were fairly complied with, and his gray scalp, after being subjected to such severe vicissitudes, found a quiet resting-place in consecrated ground.
White Shield remained with Silverspur at the rendezvous, feeling that he had nowhere else to go.
“I have left the Blackfeet,” he said, “I have betrayed the Arapahoes, and I have no people.”
“Am I not your people, my brother?” asked Silverspur.
The Blackfoot was content to stay with his friend, although he was not satisfied at the rendezvous. Neither was Silverspur satisfied; for he could not forget Dove-eye.
THE END.