“All that are left of us,” was the sad reply.
The captives and their rescuers hastened on. By good luck they were now beyond the gleams cast by the nearest fires and the crowd of Indians that poured from the temple could not at first discover the reason for the imperative summons given by their medicine man. But they soon learned the cause, for the prostrate one, recovering from Nestor’s blow, excitedly told what had happened, that their prisoners were escaping. There was a rush of feet and voices called one to the other. Then came a gleam as of torches being torn from their places in the temple.
“Here they come!” exclaimed Ned, grimly.
“Do the best you can,” advised Jerry.
The three women of the party were placed in the middle, with the men grouped around them. Jerry and Ned were in the lead, while Nestor, with Professor Snodgrass, and one of the younger men of the prisoners, brought up the rear.
Suddenly there was a hissing sound in the air, and something seemed to fly over the heads of the escaping ones.
“Arrows!” exclaimed Mr. Deering. “They are shooting arrows at us. Few of the Indians have guns, but those few may use them.”
His fear proved correct a little later, when the darkness of the night was cut by slivers of flame, and bullets sang over the heads of our friends, and those they were trying to save.
“If they don’t shoot any better than that we have little to fear,” said Jerry.
“Wow!” exclaimed Ned, ducking as something sang over his head. “That was closer. I’m going to fire, Jerry!”