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It is ten days later. The air is growing brisker, the flowers bear no new buds. More leaves are falling on the woodland paths, and the trees are throwing out their last bright autumn tints of red and brown and richest orange, that tell all too plainly of the death that lies before them. "There, don't cry, and you shall have it all your own way," he says, with a sigh. "To-morrow we will decide what is to be done." "Do you mean they want to shoot me?" says Maxwell, in a hurried tone..

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The son-in-law and his wives came home, bringing the meat, and after a little time they heard the child in the next lodge crying. The son-in-law said to his youngest wife, "Go over to your mother's and see whether that baby is a boy or a girl. If it is a boy, tell your parents to kill it." This is a betise of the first water. And Lady Rodney, who can hear—and is listening to—every word, almost groans aloud. "Tell me why you hesitated in your speech a while ago. Talking of Rodney's giving you the will, you said he offered to give it you if—if——What did the 'if' mean?" Creeping through the grass behind this person, something was slowly drawing near to him. There was no noise, the watcher heard nothing; still he sat there, looking out over the prairie, and turning his head neither to the right nor the left. This thing behind him kept creeping closer, and presently it was so near it could touch the man. Perhaps then there was some little rustle of the grass, and the watcher turned his head. It was too late. A strong arm around his neck bent his head back, a hand covered his mouth, a long stone knife was thrust into his breast, and he died in silence. The fading light had kept people in the camp from seeing what had happened..