No more was said, and crawling backward Joe made his way to the tree to which Pep Frost was fastened. Two slashes of the knife and the old pioneer was also liberated, and Joe provided him with the second musket.
“Cut tudder man loose,” whispered Frost, as he fingered the gun nervously.
“He is free,” answered Joe.
So far the captives had not moved from their positions against the trees, and as the young warrior looked at them he imagined each as secure as ever. The Indians in general continued to look over the contents of the bundles until a light on the river caused a fresh interruption.
A third canoe was approaching filled with Indians and with at least two captives. The latter were evidently females, and one, a girl of twelve or fifteen, was crying piteously.
“Let me go! Please let me go!” she begged. “Oh, where are you taking me?”
“Better be quiet, Harmony,” said the woman in the canoe. “It will do thee no good to weep.”
“Harmony!” groaned Joe. “Harmony and Mrs. Parsons! Where can sister Cora be, and Harry’s sister Clara?”
All of the Indians had turned to the river front, and now Pep Frost made a motion to Ezra Winship. The pioneer understood, and, like a flash, both turned and fled into the forest, calling softly to Joe to follow.
Before the Indians discovered their loss the former captives were a good hundred yards away. They kept close together and Joe was by his father’s side. Presently a mad yell rent the air.