“Thank heaven he is gone,” said Millicent. “That monster gives me more uneasiness than the Indians and Jules Damand to boot. Something within tells me that the villain will yet give us trouble. Oh, if he should get me, by any means, in his power!” And she visibly shuddered.
“One of us must stand guard,” said Bentley. “We have more dangers than this to fear.”
“So you have,” yelled a voice on the cliff above. “Beware!”
They looked up, long enough to see the malicious face of Jules Damand looking down upon them. It was only a passing glimpse, for he disappeared immediately.
“Just as I feared,” said Millicent with a sigh. “That villain will not let us rest.”
“He knew that we would take to the river, and followed along the crest until he saw us land. There goes his rifle; he is firing at something.”
The report of the rifle was followed by the cry of the Mountain Devil. Then they heard the sound of feet upon the ledge above, and shortly after Jules Damand appeared upon the ridge, closely pursued by the wild thing. The Frenchman had a knife in his hand, and as he reached the level rock overhanging the stream, and saw that he could run no further, he turned at bay, and was ready to fight for his life. The Mountain Devil held in his hand the barrel of the rifle which he had wrenched from the hand of Jules, and the stock of which he had shattered on the rocks.
“Shall we help him, Jan?”
“Yaw,” said Jan. “Den we tie him oop.”
They began to clamber up the rocks, while Millicent stood, with bated breath, watching the combat on the ledge. The monster was raining a storm of blows upon the head of the Frenchman; but he had closed and grasped it by the shaggy hair upon its breast, so that the blows were not at the full sweep of the arm. Already the keen knife had been plunged thrice to the hilt in the body of the monster, when it threw down the rifle barrel, and caught Jules Damand in its long arms.