“Yes, easily,” replied the one addressed, raising the motionless form of the young girl in his arms, apparently without an effort.
“Let us be going, then. If we can reach the cabin before she recovers, so much the better for my plan.”
Murdock led the way, followed closely by Benton carrying the girl while Bob brought up the rear.
Swiftly through the forest they went.
A half-hour’s march up the Kanawha and Murdock halted by the bank of the river. Drawing a dug-out from its concealment in some bushes that overhung the water, by its aid the party crossed the river.
On the other bank of the stream, they again plunged into the forest—first, however, carefully concealing the dug-out in a similar hiding-place to that in which they found it.
After a three hours’ tramp through the thicket, they came to a little log-cabin in the center of a little clearing. The cabin bore the marks of decay, and the long grass that grew thick over the threshold told that the builder had long since abandoned the dwelling.
Virginia had recovered from her faint some time before the party had reached the solitary cabin.
Terrible indeed were the feelings of the young girl. A prisoner in the hands of the merciless red-men—for she had no suspicions that her captors were white—she shrunk from the thought of what her fate would be. Then, too, when she remembered that she had seen her lover fall before her eyes, perhaps mortally wounded, she felt as if her heart would break.