The child nodded his head, and pointed toward the canyon.
"Them devilish Apaches has been about camp all day," said Pete Tompkins, stopping to speak to Kenneth. "I seen some of 'em goin' up canyon jest 'fore dark."
"We must go to Miss Bright's rescue at once!" said Kenneth excitedly.
"I'm with ye," said Pete Tompkins. "If a blanked savage harms that air schoolma'am I'll smash his skull with the butt o' my gun. I'll jine y'r party. Let's take all the hounds. We're likely ter run across more'n one Apache. Hello, kids!" he called out. "Jine a rescue party. The schoolma'am's went up canyon ter tend sick squaw,—the Mexican's woman. Them devilish Apaches is up through the canyon, an' we're afeared they'll capture schoolma'am."
Ten well-armed men, some mounted, some unmounted, started up the canyon. On their way, they met John Clayton, who joined them. His horse was neck and neck with Kenneth's.
"Good God!" said the former to his companion. "What may have happened to Miss Bright? What may yet happen to her?"
Kenneth made no reply, but his face was tense.
These two men were in advance, closely followed by Jack Harding and Pete Tompkins, on their Mexican ponies.
Suddenly, the party heard the distant cry of wolves, and—was it a human voice?—they strained their ears to hear. It was a human voice, a woman's voice. They dug their spurs into their horses' sides, and fairly flew.
As they were journeying up the canyon, the savage, with his captive in his arms, was speeding down the canyon. Suddenly he turned, and took the trail leading towards the Apache reservation.