There was an unmistakable rapping at the door. The blood which had at
first rushed to his face now forsook it and settled slowly around his
heart. He tried to rise, but could not. Then the door was flung open,
and a figure with a scarlet-lined hood and fur mantle stood on the
threshold. With a mighty effort he took one stride to the door. The next
moment he saw the wide mouth and white teeth of the Princess, and was
greeted by a kiss that felt like a baptism.

To tear the hood and mantle from her figure in the sudden fury that
seized him, and to fiercely demand the reason of this masquerade, was
his only return to her greeting. "Why are you here? did you steal these
garments?" he again demanded in her guttural language, as he shook her
roughly by the arm. The Princess hung her head. "Did you?" he screamed,
as he reached wildly for his rifle.

"I did?"

His hold relaxed, and he staggered back against the wall. The Princess
began to whimper. Between her sobs, she was trying to explain that the
Major and his daughter were going away, and that they wanted to send her
to the Reservation; but he cut her short. "Take off those things!" The
Princess tremblingly obeyed. He rolled them up, placed them in the canoe
she had just left, and then leaped into the frail craft. She would have
followed, but with a great oath he threw her from him, and with one
stroke of his paddle swept out into the fog, and was gone.

"Jessamy," said the Major, a few days after, as he sat at dinner with
his daughter, "I think I can tell you something to match the mysterious
disappearance and return of your wardrobe. Your crazy friend, the