Sut was brave, but there was a certain feeling of disappointment that began to make itself felt. Although he would not have admitted it, yet the termination of the recent meeting with Lone Wolf, had led him to hope, not that the chieftain would liberate him, but that he would give him some kind of a show for his life—an opportunity, no matter how desperate, in which he might make a fight for his existence. He had spared Lone Wolf when he was at his mercy, refusing to fight the chief because he was so disabled that his defeat was assured. It would seem that the chief, in return, might offer the scout a chance to fight some of the best warriors; and such probably would have been the case with any set of people except the American Indians. The absence of Lone Wolf impressed Sut very unfavorably. He believed the chief meant to remain away until after his important prisoner was killed.
By the time night was descended, the wild rejoicing in a great measure ceased. One of the Apaches started a fire, and the others lent their assistance. A roaring, crackling flame lit up a large area of the ravine, revealing the figure of every savage, as well as that of the scout, who, having grown weary of continual standing, seated himself upon the ground. Had Sut possessed the use of his arms, he would have made an effort to get away at this time. A short run would have carried him to the place which he had in mind at the time he began his retreat. Without the aid of his hands, however, he was certain to be entrapped again, so he concluded to remain where he was, with the hope that something more inviting would present itself.
The frontiersman never despairs; and, although it was difficult to figure out the basis of much hope in the present case, yet Sut held on, and determined to do so to the end. He made several cautious tests of his bonds, but the lariat of buffalo-hide was wound around his arms so continuously, and tied so well, that the strength of twenty men could not have broken it. The exploit of cutting them by abrasion against a sharp stone (which he had once done), could not be accomplished in the present instance, for the reason that there was no suitable stone at hand, and he was under too strict surveillance. And so it only remained for him to wait and hope, and hold himself in readiness.
When the fire had crackled and flamed for a while, the Apaches clustered in groups upon the ground, where they smoked and talked incessantly. They seemed to be paying no attention to their prisoner, and yet they took pains to group themselves around him in such a way that if he should attempt flight he would be forced into collision with some of them. Sut was surprised that as yet no indignity had been offered him. As the Apaches had every reason to hate him with the very intensity of hatred, it would have been in keeping with their character to have made his lot as uncomfortable as possible.
“It’ll come by-and-bye,” he sighed, as the cramped position of his arms pained him. “I don’t know what they’re waitin’ fur. Mebbe they want to get up such a high old time with me that they’re writin’ out a programme, and have sent to New Orleans fur a band of music. Thar’s nothing like doing these things up in style, and I s’pose Lone Wolf means to honor me in that way.”
At a late hour, the moon arose, and the light penetrated the ravine, where the strange, motley crowd congregated. The fire still burned, and no one showed any disposition to sleep. By way of relief, the scout lay over upon his side, and was looking up at the clear moon-lit sky when he heard the tramp of horses, and immediately rose up again.
He saw the chieftain, whom he had observed a few hours before, as he came in with his news of the destruction of New Boston, accompanied by two others, all mounted. They rode up in such a position that they surrounded the captive, who was suddenly lifted by a couple of Apaches, and placed astride of the mustang in front of the young chief. The next minute the quartette moved off.
“Skulp me! if I know what this means!” muttered Sut, who felt uneasy over the new turn of affairs. “Things are getting sort of mixed just now.”
He hoped that he would learn something of the purpose of the three redskins from their conversation as they rode along; but unfortunately for that hope, they did not exchange a word. When they had ridden a fourth of a mile, Sut caught the flash of a knife in the chieftain’s hand. The next instant, it moved swiftly along his back, and the lariat was cut in many pieces. The arms of the scout were freed, although for some minutes they were so benumbed that he could scarcely move them.
What did all this mean? Fully another quarter of a mile was ridden in silence, when the three halted, and Sut felt that the critical moment had arrived. The chief dismounted from the horse, leaving the scout seated thereon. One of the others reached over and handed him his own gun, while the third passed him back his long knife.