HOW HENRY FARED
Let us now go back to Henry Morris and find out what occurred to the young hunter and Mrs. Risley immediately after Dave departed from the resting place in the forest.
As we know the tired woman had fainted from exhaustion, and for fully ten minutes Henry had all he could do to restore her to consciousness. He rubbed her hands and wrists vigorously and fanned her face with his cap, and at last had the satisfaction of seeing her open her eyes.
"Oh!" she murmured. "I—I—what happened? Did I—I fall?"
"You fainted I reckon," answered the young hunter, kindly. "The walk was too much for you."
"Yes—I felt I couldn't go another step, Henry. I see we are still in the woods. Are the Indians near?"
"I don't think they are—at least, we haven't seen anything of them."
"Where is Dave?"
"He has gone on ahead, to see if all is right at home, and if it is to bring help."
"I would give all I possess to be at your cabin," said the poor woman, with a sigh. She tried to rise, then sank back heavily. "I—I—don't see how I am going to walk."
"You had better rest a bit longer, Mrs. Risley. There is no great hurry. It may pay us to go slow—with so many redskins lurking about. They may be—"
Henry broke off short, and thinking his companion was about to speak, clapped his hand over her mouth. Through the stillness of the forest he had caught sounds that could mean but one thing—the approach of several men. In a moment more he caught glimpses of a flickering light approaching.
"We must hide!" he whispered in Mrs. Risley's ear. "Come, there isn't a second to lose!"
"But where shall we go?" she panted, her heart leaping into her throat. "I cannot run a step—it will kill me!"
The young hunter looked around in perplexity. There was some brushwood to their right, growing among some sharp-pointed rocks. He caught his companion's hand and almost dragged her in that direction. On the rocks Mrs. Risley's foot slipped and she gave a cry of pain.
"My ankle—I have twisted it badly!"
"Hush! they will hear!" he answered, and seeing she could go no further, he caught her in his youthful arms and carried her forward. In the midst of a clump of bushes he laid her down and threw himself flat beside her, at the same time holding some brushwood down over them.
By this time the glimmer of light had come closer. It was a torch, held in the hands of a tall Indian, who was following up the trail of the whites with great care. The Indian had with him six companions, all armed with either guns or bows and arrows, and each hideous in his war-paint.
Hardly daring to breathe, Henry awaited their close approach, his left hand holding down the bushes and his right on his gun. Soon the warriors were at the spot where Mrs. Risley had fainted. Here they came to a halt and began to talk in low tones.
It was a moment of intense anxiety, and it must be confessed that Henry's heart almost stopped beating. The warrior with the torch held the light aloft, and all in the party gazed around with eyes as piercing as those of some wild beasts.
