Felicia had not fainted, although her senses swam and she seemed on the verge of losing consciousness. She could not understand just what had taken place. Suddenly her rescuer began to laugh, and a strange, wild, boyish laugh it was. It thrilled her through and through.
“Dick!” she gasped. “Oh, Dick!”
He straightened up and lifted her, holding her before him with one strong arm.
“Felicia!” he exclaimed, “are you hurt?”
“Oh, Dick! Dick!” she repeated, in wonder. “And is it you?”
“You are not hurt?” he persisted in questioning.
“No, Dick—no.”
“Thank goodness!”
“But how was it? My head is swimming; I can’t understand. I am dazed.”
“Well, I fancy I dazed those fine gentlemen a little,” said the boy. “Felicia, I have been searching, searching everywhere for you. We followed your trail as well as we could. When night came we had not found you. I couldn’t rest. What fate it was that led me to those ruffians I cannot say, but I believe the hand of Heaven was in it. In their excitement over Crowfoot none of them heard my approach. I was quite near when that brute lifted his weapon to shoot Joe. I didn’t want to kill him, and I fired at his arm. It was a lucky shot, for I hit him. He stood between me and the firelight, so that the light fell on the barrel of my pistol. Crowfoot took his cue quickly enough, for I saw him scamper.”