"This is my friend!" he shouted as he sprung to Ulna's side and drew his own hunting-knife.
"Hold! He is a Ute and my foe!" roared the chief.
But neither his words nor his movements could stay Sam Willett, who was now blind to everything but the condition of his brave friend.
Two rapid flashes of the knife, and the cords that bound Ulna's hands and feet were severed.
Ike and Wah Shin trembled at the audacity of their young leader.
Even Blanco and his braves were speechless and helpless for the moment, and looked from one to the other, as if wondering what this extraordinary young white man would do next.
They had not long to wonder, for Ulna, in the very second that he was freed, sprang to his feet, leaped at the nearest Indian, who chanced to hold the repeating-rifle that had been taken from himself the night before, and tearing it from his grasp, he bounded up the ravine before a hand could be raised to stay him.
"Shoot! shoot!" cried the chief when he could regain his breath.
"Don't fire!" shouted Sam as, with his own gun raised, he sprang directly in front of the Apaches.
They did not fire, perhaps because it would have been useless, for before they had fully realized the order of the chief and why it was called out, the fleet-footed Ulna had vanished up the rift.