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.Then, all on a sudden, it ceased.A black form started from under the scaffolding to the edge of the bluff.Then again, weird, wild, uncanny, a barbaric, almost savage strain burst from the lips of the girl."Mother of Heavin!" cried the driver."Can no one shtop that awful keen.It's her death song she's singin'!"Two young officers sprang from the sleigh, but at the instant another cry arose.Another form, this one of horse and rider, appeared at the crest, silhouetted with the girl's against the stars.They saw the rider leap from saddle, almost within arms' length of the singer; saw her quickly turn, as though, for the first time, aware of an intruder.Then the wailing song went out in sudden scream of mingled wrath, hatred and despair, and, like the Sioux that she was at heart, the girl made one mad rush to reach the point of bluff where was a sheer descent of over eighty feet.A shriek of dread went up from the crowded sleigh; a cry of rejoicing, as the intruder sprang and clasped her, preventing her reaching the precipice.But almost instantly followed a moan of anguish, for slipping at the crest, together, firmly linked, they came rolling, sliding, shooting down the steep incline of the frozen bluff, and brought up with stunning force among the ice blocks, logs and driftwood at the base.They bore them swiftly homeward,—Field senseless and sorely shaken,—Nanette's fierce spirit slowly drifting away from the bruised and broken tenement held there, so pityingly, in the arms of Esther Dade.Before the Christmas fires were lighted in the snowbound, frontier fort, they had laid all that was mortal of the brave, deluded girl in the little cemetery of Fort Frayne, her solemn story closed, on earth, forever.* * *L'ENVOINearly two years later, with the old regiment still serving along the storied Platte, they were talking of her one moonlit evening at the flagstaff.The band, by this time a fixture at Frayne, had been playing delightfully, and some of the girls and young gallants had been waltzing on the Rays' veranda.A few new faces were there.Two faces, well known, were missing,—those of Esther Dade and Beverly Field.The latter had never been the same man since the tragic events that followed so closely on the heels of the Lame Wolf campaign.Wounds had slowly healed.Injuries, physical, were well nigh forgotten; but, mentally, he had been long a sufferer.For months after the death of Nanette, even when sufficiently restored to be on duty, he held shrinkingly aloof from post society.Even Webb, Blake and Ray were powerless to pull him out of his despond.He seemed to feel,—indeed he said so, that his brief entanglement with that strange, fascinating girl had clouded his soldier name for all time.To these stanch friends and advisers he frankly told the whole story, and they, in turn, had told it to the general, to the colonel commanding the regiment and to those whose opinions they most valued; but Field could speak of it to none others.Frankly he admitted that from the moment he met the girl he fell under the influence of a powerful fascination.Within twenty-four hours of his return from the Laramie trip they were riding together, and during that ride she asked to be taken to Stabber's village, and there had talked long with that magnificent young Sioux.Later, Field surprised her in tears, and then she told him a pitiful tale.Eagle Wing had been educated, she said, by her aunt and uncle,—was indeed their nephew and her own cousin.He had been wild and had given them much trouble, and her aunt was in bitter distress over his waywardness.It was to plead with him that she, Nanette, had gone."Moreau" had been taught mining and mineralogy, it seems, and declared that he had "located" a most promising mine in the Black Hills.He could buy off every claim if he had a thousand dollars, and the mine might be worth millions.Hay pooh-poohed the story.Mrs.Hay could not persuade him.Then "Moreau" became threatening.He would join the hostiles, he swore, if his aunt would not help him.Indeed, and here Field's young face burned with shame, Nanette told him that she understood that he, Field, was an only son who might inherit wealth in days to come, and could draw upon his father now for any reasonable sum; and, within the week of his meeting her, he was on the point of offering everything she needed, but that he disbelieved the Indian's story.Then, one night, there came a note begging him to meet her at once.She had a dreadful message, she said, from "Moreau." The fellow had frequently been prowling about the trader's during the dark hours, and now she was afraid of him, yet must see him, and see him at once, even if she had to ride to Stabber's camp [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]