Then he saw something that caused his heart to give one mad leap and stand still.
Swiftwing reached the end of the course. As he rushed over the line, without pausing, he caught Inza Burrage about the waist, swung her into the air, tossed her over his shoulder, and——
How was it done? An instant later the Indian was astride the horse which the other Indian had been holding ready for him. He still held fast to Inza. Frank heard her scream with sudden terror, and the cry was drowned by a hoarse sound from Swiftwing. Like an arrow leaving the bow, the horse, bearing its double burden, shot away.
CHAPTER XXV—JOHN SWIFTWING’S FAREWELL
“White Dove, we are alone in the mountains, where neither friend nor foe can reach us. Here we will stay. Soon the sun will seek his bed to rest, and the night will smile down upon us from its starry eyes, while it breathes a soft breath to smooth the ruffled feathers of the White Dove. You must have no fear of day or night, for I am with you, and I will guard you as the she-bear guards its cubs.”
Inza Burrage, her face tear-wet, her hair tumbled and tangled, her clothing torn in two or three places, turned her gaze reproachingly upon John Swiftwing.
“It is not the day or the night that I fear,” she said, slowly, with a dignity that was womanly. “I do not fear the dangers of the mountains. Wild beasts have no terrors for me now. And still my heart is frozen within me, and all my body is like ice.”
They were standing on a small plateau, where they could look away across a plain that lay below them. The sun was in the western sky. Behind them the sweat-stained horse that had brought them thither was feeding.
“Why should your heart be frozen and your body like ice?” asked the Indian, gently, his voice soft and musical, and a light of tenderness gleaming in his eyes.
“Because, John Swiftwing—because I fear you!”