“By ginger!” and the “Crow-Killer” started in astonishment, “the ‘White Vulture’!”
“Impossible!” cried Dave; “he could not have got the gag out of his mouth. Let us make the attempt to escape at once.”
“All right,” replied Abe; “come on.” As he lifted the skin, another series of war-whoops, coming from the north, from the direction of the little thicket where they had left the “White Vulture,” caused him to pause.
“What is the matter?” asked Dave, in alarm.
“Matter enough!” said the “Crow-Killer,” earnestly. “The path between us an’ the thicket is filled with the red-skins.”
“Do you think they have discovered the ‘White Vulture’?” cried Dave.
“I don’t know,” replied Abe, despondingly, “but I’m afeard they have.”
“Oh, Dave!” cried Leona, clinging to her lover, “will they separate us? Oh, I would rather die than lose you!”
“Hope for the best, Leona,” said Dave, softly, yet in a voice tremulous with emotion.
“Do you think we can escape?” she asked, looking up into the guide’s face with those large blue eyes, so beautiful, so full of love and trust.