It was the Indian girl, Moorooine. And as she spoke the rangers were around her.
“What!” said Revel. “Do you know what has happened?”
“She kain’t do no good—come on,” exclaimed Mace. “We orter know what that war-whoop meant.”
“’Twas Miami whoop—but friendly one,” persisted the girl. “Warkechin. Know him. Called Goodbrand.”
Mace paused. “How d’ye know?” he said. “An’ yit—”
“I b’lieve it!” said Hicks and Revel, in a breath. “Ye know it mout be, Ben,” continued the latter. “The Miami is workin’ for Rhodan’s safety an’ his own.”
“Yes; tryin’ save both,” said Moorooine. “Now you know that—go on, help.”
She herself led the way, keeping in view before them for a few seconds, and then disappearing altogether. She seemed to move as noiseless as a bird.
Again every thing around was silent as a charnel-house. The rangers, scattered quite a distance apart, soon halted at a signal from Mace, and came together.
“Two kin go ahead an’ reconnoiter,” he said. “You an’ me, Revel. Ef Scarred Eagle is atween us an’ the Injuns he’ll show himself soon. Ef ’e don’t, we’ll—huh! Thet Injun girl ag’in, I reckon.”