In vain the great scout endeavored to wrench himself free from the fire-stake. Yellow Elk and his followers had done their work well and he was held as in a vise.
"Pawnee Brown shall burn slowly," said the Indian chief, hoping to make the scout show the white feather. "Yellow Elk will watch that the fire does not mount to his body too quickly."
"If you want to kill me why don't you put a bullet through my heart and have done with it," said the boomer as coolly as he could. The fire was now burning around his feet and ankles and the pain was increasing with every second of time.
"White man shall learn what it is to suffer," said Spotted Nose. "He killed my friend, the Little Mule."
"Your friend tried to take my life."
"Bah! say no more but burn! burn!" hissed Yellow Elk.
And with a stick he shoved the flaming brush closer in around the scout's legs.
It was a fearful moment—a moment in which Pawnee Brown's life hung by a single thread. The flames were leaping up all around him. He closed his eyes and half murmured a prayer for divine aid.
Crack! bang! crack! Two pistol shots and the report of a rifle echoed throughout the cave, and as Pawnee Brown opened his eyes in astonishment Spotted Nose threw up his arms and fell forward in the flames at his feet, dead! The Indian who had been with Spotted Nose also went down, mortally wounded, while Yellow Elk was hit in the left arm.
"Down with the reds!" came in the ringing voice of Jack Rasco, and he appeared from out of a cloud of smoke, closely followed by Dan Gilbert and Dick. "Pawnee! Am I in time? I hope ter Heaven I am!"