"I found it," said the scout, "beside the ravine yonder, a little more than two miles from here. The young miss is alive, and dropped it for a 'sign.' The redskins all left in that direction."
Whatever Brenda's three cousins may have lacked in education and cultivation, they wanted nothing in affection. They gathered about the little tress, took it daintily in their palms, kissed it again and again, and moistened it with tears. Low sobs and endearing names for the brave darling who had been willing to sacrifice her life to preserve theirs fell from their lips. Poor, rude, frontier maids, they had shown an equal bravery all through the defence, and proved themselves to be worthy descendants of the race that lived through the colonial struggles with the Indians of the Mohawk Valley. The three girls gathered about me, and, clinging to my arms, besought me to go to the rescue of their cousin.
"Yes, yes, girls," I replied; "everything shall be done that possibly can be. We will start at once, and I hope to bring her back to you." Turning to the father, I said, "Mr. Arnold, I will leave you a luncheon for the road, and you must try to make the distance to Prescott on foot."
"Yes, sir; we can do it easy, thank you."
"I would leave you some of the men as escort, but in such an expedition I need more than I have."
"That's all right, Mr. Dunkin; 'f I had a beast I'd go with ye. There'll be no Apaches round these parts agin for a considerable spell," and his eyes ran sadly over the ruins of his home, the wreck of his property, resting finally on the grave of his wife.
Yes, Brenda was alive, and a prisoner of the Apaches, spared by them, probably, as children sometimes are after such raids, for adoption. It was plainly our duty to rescue her from the fate of a continued life with her captors.