All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 40: what you’re looking at

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30 had been walking carefully, that they had been concealing their trail as best they could. eee CHAPTER XVII. THE RETURN. \ T seemed to Muriel Sangree that she had barely closed her eyes before she opened them again to see Shuiski standing there at her side instead of Blue Otter. She sat up. “You!” she exclaimed. “ Muriel!” He made as if to embrace her. ‘No! Stand back!” she panted. ‘‘T have been worried to death,” he said. ‘We have been hunting for you day and night.” “ Where are the others?” | ‘There are no others. I am alone.” She gazed at him. Intuitively she knew he lied. Logic as well as intuition had by this time told her that he was a party to the plot that had driven her here. “How did you get here?” she asked. She was merely playing for time to think. Shuiski sketched out a story. His love for her had caused him to persist after the others had given up hope, had inspired him to go further in his search. He grinned at her dress, looked about him, furtively. ‘Where are the Indians?” he asked. ‘“ There is only one.” “Where is he?”’ It was a question that was sounding in Muriel’s brain. In a way Shuiski’s ques- tion brought her reassurance. Shuiski would scarcely have had the hardihoed to ask the question had Blue Otter been killed. ‘‘He has gone for help,” she invented. Shuiski gave a start. “‘ He will find that he is a little late,” he said. ‘‘ Come. Let us be going.” “ T shall wait here.” “What? When your father—and every- ; one—is almost killed with anxiety?” “You can get word to him more quickly if you go alone. I shall follow with the Indians.” “Muriel! Is this the way you welcome me—” ALL-STORY WEEKLY. He had seated himself at her side on the ‘platferm of the lodge, sought to take her hand in his. She again drew back from him sharply. ‘“Den’t touch me!” she cried, unable to conceal her distrust. “Why, what’s the matter?” ‘Tf I was lost, it was on your account.” . He went pathetic. “I admit that I was partly to blame. But I have been pun- ished. It was careless of me to let you out of my sight. But I have been distracted, unable to sleep.” Muriel threw aside all pretense. She could barely master her voice and her words. Her eyes, however, she could not master at all. ‘‘ You may go. I’m safe now. I'll wait.” | “Wait for—your filthy Indian!” Her face flared white. It was her only answer. “TI see,” he droned. “ You want to make sure that he gets the reward and the glory!” He softened his tone, sought to placate her. But he was like a hungry tiger in the presence of a _ long-sought quarry. “Come on! Don’t be foolish! Time is precious. Hurry!” ‘Tl have to dress,” said Muriel. “Come just as you are.” Muriel was fighting hard to keep hack her fright. She had too brilliant a memory of what panic fear here in this wiJderness meant. That was part of her old night- mare. She was afraid that the nightmare would return. Time! Time at any cost! She would have to play for time! And yet what would even this time profit her unless Blue Otter returned? And would he re- turn? And if he did return, what then? “T am still too weak to travel. i “Vl carry you.” “* How could you—alone?”’ ‘Tl follow the custom of the country— make signal-smokes. Come!” He tried to take her into his arms. She struck him. She found herself standing breathless on the farther side of cypress platform of the lodge. She sur- veyed her chances, desperately. There was the sheltering forest. But how far could She get into it before this human brute should have her again? comiclboolk C©