carefully wrapped in cool green leaves, a fish freshly caught that
morning.

"A brook trout, on my word, such as I have often taken in the streams at
home!" exclaimed Lord Harold, amazed.

"I got it far up the canyon before the sun was risen," she answered,
delighted at his surprise.

This, having quickly dressed it, she wrapped again in leaves and placed
under the hot ashes to bake, and it being, evidently, a feast out of the
ordinary, a merry-making to which a third guest might be bidden,
suddenly Wildenai left the cavern again to return this time with a tiny
gray fox perched familiarly upon her shoulder.

"'Tis Onatoa, senor Englishman," she announced, gently stroking the
bushy tail of the little creature as it lay about her neck.

But from his vantage point above his rival, Onatoa merely sniffed
disdainfully with his sharp black nose. He looked far from friendly.

The princess laughed softly.

He does not know you yet," she defended her pet. "He will soon learn to
love you, too."

"I will catch fish with thee next time thou goest," declared young
Harold later as they ate together. "There's no reason I can see why I
should stay mewed up forever in this cave. I fear not Indians! No, not
even Torquam, thy father, himself."