Crack! the report of a rifle rang out.
A yell of agony broke from the lips of the Indian, and the hatchet dropped from his hand. A bullet had shattered his forearm.
Frank's aim had been true, and he had saved the life of Old Rocks.
At that instant, just as the guide stooped to lift the child, a man broke through the circle of savages and snatched up the child, tearing it from the fingers of the guide, to whom he cried:
"Hold them off, and I will get away with her!"
It was the Hermit.
Out came a brace of revolvers in the hands of the weather-tanned guide, and the yells which broke from his lips awoke a hundred echoes. He began shooting to the right and left.
Over the top of the rocks, behind which he had been concealed, Frank was sending a shower of bullets whistling. After the first two shots, he aimed high, counting on demoralizing the savages by terror, instead of taking chances of hitting Old Rocks or the child.
The trick worked long enough for the guide to get away, and he followed close at the heels of the Hermit.
By chance the man with the child passed near Frank, and then Old Rocks came along, shouting: