CHAPTER XXII.
DICK HITS HIS MARK.
"They are coming closer, Dick! What shall we do?"
It was Nellie Winthrop who asked the question. Boy and girl had entered the woods a distance of fifty feet from the bank of the brook, and both rested where several large rocks and some overhanging bushes afforded a convenient hiding place.
"Keep quiet, Nellie," he said in a murmur, with his lips close to her shell-like ears. And he gripped her arm to show her that he would stand by her no matter what danger might befall them.
It would have been foolhardy to say more, for Yellow Elk and Louis Vorlange were now within hearing distance, and the ears of the Indian chief were more than ever on the alert. The government spy had lighted a torch, which he swung low to the brook bank, while Yellow Elk made an examination of the ground.
"Here footmarks!" grunted the redskin, a minute later, and pointed them out. "They go this way—cannot be far off."
"Then after them," muttered Vorlange. "It was through your stupidity that the girl got away. Yellow Elk, I always put you down for being smarter than that."
"Yellow Elk smart enough!" growled the Indian chief.
"No, you're not. In some things you are like a block of wood," grumbled Vorlange. The escape of Nellie had put him out a good deal.