Colonel, "I hope that Tall Elk and his braves will do no harm to
Stephens. He is not with us, but he is a brave, good man, and love
our people. In acting against us he is only doing his duty."

"Ugh! It is well," grunted the chief. "Will look after Stephens
myself."

But this assurance did not satisfy Annette, who stood, during the
dialogue, with throbbing heart and pale cheek. The threats of the
Rebel Chief still lingered in her ear; and she knew that her
deliverer's life would not be safe in the hands of the terrible man.
She said naught, but a bold resolution passed like a flame through
her brain. In a little while the chief departed, and at the head of
his painted warriors struck out across the dark prairie in the
direction of Hickory Bush. The Bush was about twelve miles distant,
and the rising of the moon would be in two hours.

In a little while the girl said, "Papa, I am so disturbed to-night
that I cannot sit up with you as long as usual: good-night." Then she
kissed her father who caressed her silken hair; and she left the room.

Now, Annette had as a companion or attendant, an orphan girl, named
Julie. She was not tall and graceful like Annette, but her olive face
was stained with delicate carnation, and her little mouth resembled a
rose just about to open. She was intelligent, active and
affectionate; and the great aim of her existence was to serve a
mistress whom she almost adored.

"Come to me, Julie," Annette whispered as she passed the girl.