Calhoun, a mountain man has lost the Indian wife he worshipped to an Indian suitor- and dedicates his life to finding her. At intervals he serves as a white scout with an outpost fort of the U.S. Cavalry, in the Rockies, and tries, mostly in vain, to interpret Indian thinking and reasoning- as well as tongue- to the rigid viewpoint of the average cavalry officer. Colonel Hunt reluctantly concedes Calhoun's superior understanding, and sends out a scouting troup, which is massacred, and then determines to attempt to defend the fort- apparently forgotten by the authorities- along the lines Calhoun suggests. It seems a lost cause. Colonel Hunt sends his daughter away- presumably to safety- only to have her face the murder of her escort, losing her way, and reluctantly finding herself forced to accept the help of Calhoun, who has traced her. One feels an authentic and sympathetic understanding behind this story, a very true picture of the wrong-headedness of our handling of the Indians. But the romance told against the adventure story follows a tired pattern. The author has written extensively on the Indians of the West and knows his subject.