"I beg your pardon, Miss Douglas," he said, hastily
turning away from her. "I had forgotten it looked like
that, but fortunately the look is the worst part of it.
It's only a flesh wound."

The girl had stepped forward to help him, as if resenting
the imputation that the sight of blood frightened her,
but Jacques had anticipated what was required. She wanted
to bring him something to eat and drink, but he thanked
her and declined. He had weightier matters on hand.

"Mr. Douglas," he said, quietly, "I've told my men to
move over here. You may require their services in the
course of the next twenty-four hours. What I apprehended
and told you about some time ago has occurred."

"Pasmore," said the rancher, earnestly, "is there any
immediate danger? If there is, my daughter and the women
had better go into Battleford right now."

"You cannot go now--you must wait till to-morrow morning,"
was the reply. "It's no use taking your household goods
into the Fort--there's no room there. Your best plan is
to leave things just as they are, and trust to the rebels
being engaged elsewhere. I believe your warriors,
Child-of-Light, are in the wood in the deep coulee just
above where the two creeks meet?"

"That is right, brother," said the Indian, "but what
about Thunderchild, the turncoat?"