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“Yes, what do you mean?” said one of the men threateningly. By this time Tellef’s mother and Tellef and his sisters had joined them; the envelope was opened and several bills fell out. “Yes,” was the quick answer, although the speaker had hoped that the boy would suggest spending a week or two with him before he left for the West. But Bob’s next words cheered him a lot..

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“Oh, well! See here. I’ll lend ye my blouse. Put it on and run down fer yer clo’es.” He had a match and if there was enough wood there was a chance. The planking of the door was dry and there was no reason why it would not catch. A few minutes later a slim shadow rose out of the chaparral. Feather-in-the-Wind spoke in his own language to this newcomer. Evidently this was the brave who had kept note of Miguel’s comings and goings. The conference over, Bob’s friend uttered the one word, “Wait!” and sat down. The other Indian slipped away. Bob followed the example of Feather-in-the-Wind. She retired early to her chamber; and her woman observing that she appeared much agitated, inquired if she was ill? To this she returned a short answer in the negative, and her woman was soon afterwards dismissed. But she had hardly shut the door of the room when she heard her lady's voice recalling her. She returned, and received some trifling order, and observed that Maria looked uncommonly pale; there was besides a wildness in her eyes which frightened her, but she did not dare to ask any questions. She again quitted the room, and had only reached the extremity of the gallery when her mistress's bell rang. She hastened back, Maria enquired if the marquis was gone to bed, and if all was quiet? Being answered in the affirmative, she replied, 'This is a still hour and a dark one!—Good night!'.