“It were cussid mean, I know,” replied Jake; “but it ain’t right to do evil acause some one else did, eh?”
“Enough; where is Rafe Norris, better known as Curly-headed Ned?”
“Curly? Why, he went away, two hours ago. He don’t hanker arter you chaps, you understand; they don’t suit him, nohow.”
“The scoundrel! It will go hard with him when we once lay hands on him. Where is the daughter of Old Pegs? Tell me quickly before I put a bullet through your head.”
“You needn’t rare up that ar’ way,” said Boston Jake, sullenly. “I don’t keer two cents what you do with me, and I don’t skeer at all so you mout as well let me down easy. That’s the way I talk it. Curly-headed Ned hez got the gal.”
The forces of Whirlwind satisfied that their sworn enemies—the Sioux—were scattered in the mountains, at once set out in pursuit, breaking up into squads of ten or less for that purpose. Woe to the Modoc Sioux whom they ran down. His scalp quickly adorned the belt of some son of the Blackfoot tribe, and hung afterward in the smoke of his lodge. The prisoners were quickly bound, and leaving ten men as a guard the rest of the trappers began to search for the trail of Rafe Norris. But they missed the keen eyes and subtle skill of Old Pegs, the man who could read in rocks and sod the slightest pressure of the human foot, and the search for a long time was vain, and Dave Farrell began to despair of success. They could find no trail.
In the meantime, Myrtle was a prisoner in the hands of Rafe Norris. He rapidly descended the slope which led to the hunter’s cabin, holding her by the hand, and led her in at the open door of her former home.
“Here we are, my dear,” he said quietly. “You see that it becomes my province to make you welcome to the home which was once yours. Do not mistake me, sweet girl. I will do you no wrong, unless it is wicked in me to wish to make you my wife.”
“It is more than wicked—it is cruel and unmanly. Oh, if my hands could reach a weapon your life would be short.”
“Doubtless you are right, Myrtle,” he said mournfully. “You would slay one who stands ready to lay down his life in your service, and who is willing to devote that life to make you happy. Can I say nothing to make you change your purpose, my darling?”