“Where is Wonota? What has happened?” Ruth cried.
The Indian slashed the handkerchief that held the gag in place, dragged it out, and cast it away. He made no reply to Ruth’s question, but lifting up his head sent a long and quavering cry through the grove—a cry that might have been the war-whoop of his tribe generations before.
However, Ruth knew it was a signal to his daughter that he was free and was in pursuit. If Wonota was where she could hear!
Speaking not at all to the anxious Ruth, Totantora started down the gully to the riverside. The girl followed him, running almost as wildly as did the Indian chief.
Bounding out into the more open grove at the edge of the stream, Totantora uttered another savage yell. Ruth heard, too, the put, put, put, of a motor-boat. When she reached the water the boat she had previously observed was some few yards from the bank. There were two men in it now, and Ruth saw at first glance that Wonota, likewise bound and gagged, lay propped up against the small over-decked part of the launch.
The Indian chief halted not even to kick off his moccasins. He ran to the edge of the bank and, the water being deep, dived on a long slant into the river. He rose almost instantly to the surface, and with a long, swift side-stroke followed after the motor craft, which was now gaining speed.