The savage struggled fiercely, but he was like a child in the hand of his enemy.
The opportunity the scout sought came soon. The breast of the savage was exposed, and he drove the knife to the hilt in his heart.
Coolly wiping the blade upon the garments of the savage, Dick rose to his feet and quietly listened.
Not a sound met his ear except the beating of the rain and the distant rumble of thunder away to the eastward.
“I wonder if thar is any more of the varmints sneaking round here,” he said to himself. “It looks light up thar to the westward, and the rain will be over soon I guess. I wish there would be another bit of a flash, so that I might get another glimpse of matters round here.”
Hardly had the thought been expressed, when as though in answer to his desire, another pale gleam of lightning lighted up the scene about him.
It was only momentary; but the scout used his eyes well, and was convinced that there was no savage near except the one whose corpse lay bleeding beside him. But he knew that the moment the rain held up a little they would be back again. From the looks of the sky he felt assured that they had only a few moments that they could call their own, and that they must bestir themselves if they hoped to escape.
Hastily he passed round the cabin to make assurance doubly sure, and then he approached the door and gave the three low raps upon it; the signal they had agreed upon.
They heard it, for he could hear them removing the barricade inside, and in a little time he heard the voice of Sam Wilson demanding as he opened the door a little way:
“It is you, is it not, Dick?”