"Yes, and a grizzly at that; a monster. Oh, it was terrible!" and Glen shivered as the recollection of the brute's fierce charge swept upon her.

"Bear dead, eh?" Sconda queried.

"Yes, dead, and lying in the ravine, half covered with earth and rocks.

Go down Crooked Trail to the bottom, then up the gulch, and you will find it."

"Who shoot grizzly?" the Indian asked.

"A white man. And, oh, Sconda, you should have seen what a shot he made! It was wonderful! I am sure you never did anything like it."

"Greater than Sconda made at Saku, when he shot grizzly, and saved Injun, eh?"

"Greater? Listen, Sconda. That white man shot the grizzly from the other side of Deep Gulch. He was way up on the hill, and he hit the bear in the heart."

The Indian's eyes showed his astonishment as he studied the girl's face as if to make sure that she was telling the truth.

"It is true, Sconda. I was there and saw him do it."

"What was bear doing?"

"Coming at me for all it was worth, and Midnight was almost frantic with fright. If it hadn't been for that white man we would be down there now where that grizzly is lying."

"And you want Sconda to fetch bear to camp, eh?"

"I do. Take as many men as you need and go in the morning. Tell the women to be ready to prepare the meat. And, Sconda, I want you to look after the dressing of the skin. Get Klota to do it. Tell her it is for me, and she will understand. That is all, I guess."

Glen dismounted, and handed the reins to the Indian.

"Midnight is hungry, Sconda. Look after him yourself, and see that he gets a good bite of gra.s.s. And, Sconda," she added, as if an afterthought, "you will be sure to go with the men in the morning?"

"Ah, ah, Sconda will go."

"That's good. And I want you to do something for me. Keep a sharp watch to see if that white man comes again to Deep Gulch. You will, won't you?"

"Sconda will watch."

"But don't let him think you are watching, remember. You stay behind when the others have brought the bear home. But don't let the white man see you."

Into Sconda's eyes flashed an expression of understanding. He knew now what the girl meant. What would he not do for her? the white girl he had known since she was but a child, and whose word to him was law, not of force but of affection.

"Now, don't forget, Sconda," Glen warned. "Stay there, if necessary, until night, and watch him carefully from the top of Crooked Trail.

And don't tell anybody, not even Klota. Her eyes and ears are sharp, and she might suspect something. This is the greatest secret I have ever had. You have never failed me yet, Sconda, and I know that I can trust you now."

CHAPTER XIII

WHEN THE STORM BURST

Glen West Lodge, the name of this fine building on the sh.o.r.e of that inland lake, was a comfortable and cozy abode. The rooms were not large, but their furnishings and decorations showed the artistic taste of the owner. The pictures adorning the walls had evidently been chosen with careful discrimination, most of them representing nature scenes, with a few well known paintings of the world of civilization.

Each room contained a fire-place, and over the mantel of the livingroom, which opened off the hallway, was Watt's symbolical figure of "Hope." Glen had often seen her father standing before this, studying it most intently. Once he had told her its meaning. "You see that woman sitting on the top of the world," he had said. "The strings of her harp are all broken but one, and upon that she is making the best music she can. It teaches us, Glen, never to despair, but with the one string of limited power to do our best."

In one corner of this room was a piano, and the piece of modern music above the key-board showed that someone had been recently playing. A lamp of neat design hung from the wainscoted ceiling, while another with a soft shade stood upon a centre-table. The chairs in the room were comfortable, the largest being placed near the big southern window, close to which was a case well filled with books. The floor was covered with a rich carpet, of a quiet pattern, while before the fire-place was stretched a great bearskin rug. It was a room to delight the heart, especially on a night when a storm was raging over the land.

It was through this that Glen pa.s.sed after entering the house. She went at once into the dining-room, adjoining, where she found the table all set for supper, and a white-haired woman standing before the side-board, arranging knives and forks in a drawer. She turned as Glen entered, and a bright smile of welcome illumined her face.

"You are late, dear," she reminded. "Supper has been ready for some time."

"I am sorry, Nannie," the girl apologized. "But I went farther to-day than I intended. There is no word from daddy, I suppose?"

"None at all, dearie. But, hurry and change your clothes, as your father may arrive at any minute. He will be angry if he knows that you have been far beyond the Golden Crest, for he has warned you to be careful. It is not safe for a girl to be riding alone since the miners have come into this region."

Glen smiled gaily at the woman's fears, and hastened away to her own room. In about a quarter of an hour she returned, but in that brief s.p.a.ce of time a marvellous transformation had taken place. In a soft white dress, open at the throat, her beauty was enhanced ten-fold. Her luxuriant wavy hair had been hurriedly brushed back, and her cheeks bore the deep flush of health and youth. The woman at the head of the table looked at her with undisguised admiration as she pa.s.sed her a piece of nicely browned fried salmon which an Indian servant girl had brought in from the kitchen.

"It is too bad that your father isn't here to see you, Glen," she remarked. "I never saw you look prettier. If we were outside, I might suspect that the color in your cheeks is not due to health and exercise alone."

"I am afraid you are flattering me, Nannie," Glen laughingly replied.

"You will make me vain, if you are not careful."

"I am not in the habit of flattering without good reason, as you well know, dear. But I have been thinking lately what a great pity it is that you should be wasting your young life in a place like this."

"Losing my sweetness on the desert air; is that it, Nannie? But what about you?"

"Oh, I do not signify," and again the sad expression came into the woman's eyes. "I might as well be here as anywhere else. But with you it is different. You need companions of your own age, and a more agreeable life than this place can provide."

"I certainly do," was the emphatic a.s.sent. "I never realised it until my return from the Seminary. What is the use of all my education if I am to spend the rest of my days here, with not a girl friend, and not a----"

Glen floundered and paused, while her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

"I understand, dear, so do not try to explain. It is only natural that you should wish to be admired. I was the same when I was your age.

But you cannot expect to find admirers up here, that is, the right kind, and especially the one above all others."

Glen looked keenly into her companion's eyes, as if to divine her meaning. But she saw nothing there which might lead her to suspect that the secret of her heart was known.

"Do you think that daddy will ever consent to leave this place?" she asked. "I have not spoken to him about it, for I was quite satisfied with this life until recently."

"I have mentioned it to him," was the reply. "Ever since you were a child I have been urging him to leave the north, for your sake, if for nothing else. He always said that he expected to do so some day, but here we are the same as ever, and I see no signs of his going."

"I wonder what in the world daddy ever came here for, anyway?"

"Why, for trading purposes, of course. He has done wonderfully well, and understands the Indians better than any white man in this country.

You know they will do anything for him, because he is so fair and just in all his dealings."

"Yes, I know that, Nannie. But daddy never goes outside, and he will not allow white men to come here. You know as well as I do that he turns the Indians upon every white stranger who comes across the Golden Crest or by water. Daddy never mentioned it to me, but both Sconda and Klota have told me how the miners fear this place, and think that daddy is a terrible monster. When I asked them what became of the white men who ventured here, they wouldn't tell me, but looked at each other in a queer way. There is something mysterious about it all, and it has puzzled me ever since I was able to understand anything."

"There, dearie, never mind worrying your brain about it now," her companion soothed. "You are too young to have wrinkles in your smooth skin. Play that nice piece you were singing before you left to-day. I never heard it before, and it did me so much good. The piano has been idle all winter, so it must make up for lost time now."