It was true. A number of the Indians had gone into the shallow stream, and were wading toward the dam, approaching the beaver-hut nearest the shore. One of them approached the opening and climbed up on the dam. Another followed, and they commenced taking off the top of the hut. Beavers do their work well, and it was the work of some moments. At last the top was removed, and they stooped together and dragged something out. Was it a beaver? No; but Jules Damand, who had ensconced himself in the hut as a hiding-place.
They passed on to the next hut, and in like manner dragged out Bentley Morris, who had taken refuge there. It was with the deepest sorrow that the party on the mountain saw their ill-fated companions dragged from their places of refuge, amid the exultant yells of the savages, and conducted to the shore. They made no struggle; indeed, any resistance would have been useless against such a force.
“They are taken. Oh, gracious heaven, they are taken. What will be their fate?” cried Millicent.
“I kain’t tell,” said Ben. “They may kill ’em, but I don’t think it. Jule has got the wust chance, fer he tried to kill the boy.”
“Poor Shule,” said Jan. “I pees sorry I gits mat mit him unt wrastle him town on his pack.”
“The least they kin hope fer is to be pris’ners of the Blackfeet fer years. Poor lads. I’d give anything to set ’em free. But, what kin I do; what kin I do?”
The prisoners were dragged out into the open space and questioned angrily. Whirling Breeze stood in front of them for a while, and then, taking Jules by the shoulder, he led him into the cabin.
“He’s tryin’ to git him to tell whar we ar’ hid,” said Ben, chuckling hugely. “He’ll make a good deal out’n Jule, I reckon. Take keer not to show yerself, gal, it won’t do. Ef they catch sight of a woman, they’ll foller her till doom’sday but they’ll ketch her. But we’ve got things our own way. Ef Jule knew he wouldn’t tell, and as he don’t know whar we ar’, he kain’t tell. So we ar’ safe two ways, don’t ye see?”
Shortly after, Jules and Whirling Breeze came out of the cabin, the Indian excited and gesticulating violently. The sound of his voice even reached the rock on which the watchers stood. But, they could not distinguish his words. At last they bound the prisoners, and placed them on horses. This done, the entire band trooped away.
In a few moments all was still, and nothing remained to show that a visit had been made but the two broken beaver-huts, a few scattered beads, with here and there a broken shaft, a feather, or a worn moccasin. To the surprise of the trapper, his horse, which had run back to the camp when the wolves attacked them, was left at liberty as well as the Dutchman’s. Millicent had sunk down upon her knees, her face buried in her hands. The man who had saved her from deadly peril, who had placed his own life in jeopardy to save hers, who had kept up his courage and hers in starvation and fatigue, and had taken deep wounds in her behalf, was a prisoner in the hands of a bloodthirsty enemy!