The hangings at the door were closed.

He tore them aside and rushed in.
"Stella!" he said in a whisper, and then he stopped in amazement.

He had left her on the very extremity of distress.

He found her, though to be sure the stains of her tears were still visible upon her face, busy with one of the evening preparations natural in a camp-life--quietly, energetically busy.

She looked up once when he raised the hanging over the door, but she dropped her eyes the next instant to her work.
She was standing by the table with a small rook-rifle in her hands.