She descended hurriedly, and stooped to emerge from the opening. As she did so, she was roughly seized upon and a hand pressed so tightly upon her mouth and nostrils that she found it impossible to cry out. A scarf was torn from her neck and speedily transformed into a gag, which was thrust rudely into her mouth, and when she looked up she saw the leering face of Willimack close to her own.
"Aha!" he hissed. "Where is the Skeleton Scout? Where is Nabockalish now to save you? The spirit of the rocks and trees are things at which a great chief laughs!"
Taking her in his arms he dashed into the forest which bordered the path, and she found herself in the midst of the remnant of the band of Willimack, and in their midst, tightly bound and bleeding from a cut in the forehead, was her lover. He uttered a cry of horror as he saw her brought in.
"You too, Madge! Then the cup of my misery is full indeed."
She tried to speak, but the gag forbade it, but he understood her.
"Yankee Seth is dead. I saw him fall into a deep gully, shot by the hand of this traitorous savage. The brave fellow fought gallantly, but fell overpowered by numbers."
The Wyandot laughed in a sardonic manner, evidently triumphing in the misery of which he was the cause. He approached and took the gag from the mouth of Madge.
"Talk to him, talk," he shrieked. "Let him tell you how Willimack, the Wyandot, avenges himself upon those who have done him great wrong. The Long Man is dead, though warriors have not yet found his body. The Dead Chief is flying though the forest with four fleet runners upon his track, and you two are here, to try what it is to dare the vengeance of a great chief."
"Listen to me, Wyandot," cried Will, angrily. "I am in your hands, and you have it in your power to use me as you will. But, so surely as you do a wrong to this sweet girl, I will find a way to haunt you from my grave."