"It looks like it. I reckon he's afraid if he's captured that we'll torture him."
This was probably the truth, and having glanced back once, to see if they were still pursuing him, the Indian kept on, until he was less than fifty feet away from the brink of the cataract.
"Oh, Dave—shall we—we shoot?" faltered Henry.
"We must!" was the quick answer. "It's our one chance to save Nell!"
Up came his gun, and up also came the weapons of Henry and several others of the party. Four reports rang out almost as one. The Indian staggered a dozen steps and pitched headlong, carrying little Nell down with him. Both lay perfectly still close to the brink of the cataract.
For the moment neither Henry nor Dave dared to go forward. Supposing one of those four bullets had found little Nell's body instead of that of the Indian?
It was Barringford who advanced, with several of the rangers. A glance showed him that the Indian was dead, with two bullets through the lower portion of his back. Little Nell lay beside the fallen Indian, unconscious and with the blood flowing from a scratch on her right lower limb. She was only stunned by the shock and as Barringford picked her up she opened her eyes wildly.
"Let me go! Please let me go!" she screamed, and then, on catching sight of her preserver, stared in astonishment. "Oh, Mr. Barringford, is it really you? Oh, I'm so glad! Save me from the naughty Indian."
"The Injun is dead, Nell," he answered, and then as Henry and Dave rushed up, he added, "You are safe enough now."
Henry caught his little sister in his arms and both hugged each other tightly. The young soldier was too overcome to say a word, nor could Dave speak as he embraced his cousin. It was truly a happy moment.