"Ai-i-e!" came the reply.

It came from the north, and seemed only a short distance away.

Slowly Stella crept forward up the rocky hillside, pausing now and then to listen.

Once more she heard the wail. This time it seemed to be under her very feet, and, guarding against treachery, she drew her revolver, and walked softly on.

Suddenly she stopped in amazement. At her feet lay a young Indian girl.

She was lying on a blanket, and the yellow front of her deerskin tunic was stained with blood.

Without an instant's hesitation Stella was on her knees beside the girl, working with swift and gentle fingers to unfasten the tunic.

As she did so the girl opened her eyes, and, seeing Stella, smiled.

Then her Indian stoicism failed her, and she uttered a groan and fainted.

"Poor thing," muttered Stella. "Poor, wounded, wild thing. Here lies the wild wolf 'dying in the sun,' as the song says. I wonder if she knew the song."

But by this time she had opened the tunic and saw a bullet wound on the brown skin, through which the blood was oozing steadily.

She stood up and looked around for a water sign, and not far away discovered a little clump of willows, which advertised a spring.

She hurried to it and filled her hat to the brim with the cool fluid and rushed back to the wounded Indian girl, who had not yet recovered from her fainting fit.

Stella bathed her head, washed her wound, and then poured some of the water between her lips.

At that the girl opened her eyes, and, with another smile, opened her lips as if to speak.

"Rest now, dear," said Stella, with so much pity and love in her voice that the girl could only smile once more, and gratefully close her eyes.

It did not take Stella long to improvise bandages from some of her own garments, which she tore into strips, and bound up the wound so that it stopped bleeding at last.

Another drink of water so refreshed the Indian girl that she tried to rise, but Stella gently forced her back, and told her to rest.

Stella never rode away from camp without taking food in a small bag, which was attached to the cantle of her saddle.

She now bethought herself of it, and hurried away for it.

The Indian girl was ravenously hungry, and her faintness was as much due to her abstinence from food as from the loss of blood.

But when she had eaten she appeared much stronger.

"What is your name?" asked Stella.

The girl looked up at her and smiled.

"I am Singing Bird, daughter of Cloud Chief," she answered.

"You can speak English well," said Stella, at which the girl looked pleased.

"Yes, I went to the Indian school, and learned to speak and to sing hymns."

"How do you come to be here?"

"My man shot me."

"What?" cried Stella, in a horrified tone. "Your man shot you? What do you mean by that?"

"I am Running Bear's squaw."

"You are married to Running Bear?"

The girl nodded her head.

"And did Running Bear shoot you?"

"Yes. He shot me and left me to die."

"The horrible brute. What did he shoot you for?"

"He said he had too many squaws, and wanted a white squaw."

"Couldn't he have sent you away without trying to kill you?"

"I wouldn't tell him something."

"Oh, that was the reason, eh?"

"Yes, he married me at the school for my secret, and when I wouldn't tell him he began to hate me."

"Tell me about it. How long have you been married to him?"

"Five months."

"I thought you were rather young to be a wife. How old are you?"

"I am seventeen."

"Where is your home; where does your father live?"

"My father is in the Far North. I cannot go to him any more now. My man has turned me out and tried to kill me, but yet I live. But there is nothing for me now but to die."

"Indeed, you are not going to die. You are going to live with me until you are well, then you can say what you are going to do."

"The white lady is too good to an Indian girl."

"No, that is only right. How do you feel now? Do you think you could travel if I was to help you into my saddle?"