“Up among the foot-hills—by the Spirit Spring.”
“Ho; thet’s it, eh? Did the gal do this?”
“She shot me,” gasped the dying man, “and Rafe—thought I’d die—and stabbed—me—the dog—let him die—a dog’s—death! Curse him, dead or alive!”
As he spoke he caught the knife by the handle and drew it from the wound. A great gush of black blood followed, and Velveteens, the henchman of Rafe Norris who had done his evil work for many a year was dead.
“Tell yer what, boys,” said Old Pegs, “this man wouldn’t ’a’ died ef he’d bin let alone. Thet shot through the neck wouldn’t ’a’ killed him by no means, but the dirty thief hed done with him and so finished him. Now then, lift him up and we’ll plant him outside. He ain’t going ter stay hyar, ye know.”
They lifted the limp and bleeding form and carried it up the steps into the open air. Little time was spent upon his burial; a shallow trench was dug in which they laid him in his blood, and heaped the fresh earth above him as quickly as they could.
“We’ll go back to camp,” said Old Pegs. “It’ll take all the boys ter do this job, but they’ll do it right smart. Come on.”
They sprung into their saddles and rode back to the camp of the brigade, and the word passed from man to man that the outlaws had taken Myrtle, the beautiful child of the old hunter. Not a man in the brigade but had chivalry enough in his nature to peril his life for the girl, and they hailed with delight the order to march. Dave Farrell led them, a look of stern determination upon his handsome face. Woe to Rafe Norris if they met to-day!
They knew the ground well where the enemy had made a shelter, and that it was a natural fortress, from which it would be no child’s play to drive a party of determined men. Yet they cared not for the danger or difficulty, but were stirred—one and all—by the impulse to save Myrtle at whatever cost.
An hour’s march brought them to the foot-hills, at a point where the hand of Nature had hurled the rocks together in grand confusion, piling rock on rock, forming a grand barricade which it seemed impossible to scale. As they approached the dark defile which formed the only entrance to this gloomy place, Dave Farrell touched Old Pegs upon the arm.