"No, never, Indian, kill me if you will."
"Then die—!"
"Then die—!"
Marian darted backward with a piercing shriek, as the torch was dashed to the ground, and the savage sprang toward her. She had caught sight of a pale, horror-struck face that shot in from the mouth of the cave, and heard the words:
"We are here, Marian! Don't be frightened. We'll clear the cave of these monsters in a second!"
With ready wit, Marian had sprung one side, when the torch fell to the ground, and thus escaped the well-nigh fatal blow. All being blank darkness her assassin was at fault, even had he repeated the attempt. But the Indians scented danger that second, and dashing the torch to the earth, whisked out of the cave and were gone in a twinkling, escaping the murderous onslaught Peterson had prepared himself to give them as they emerged.
A few moments of necessary confusion followed the announcement of Mansfield's presence. Guided by the unerring instinct of love, he soon had Marian clasped in his arms. A fervent embrace and he led her forth. As they passed out of the entrance, the dark body of the old squaw brushed by them and scurried off in the darkness.
"Thank God, the dead is alive!" exclaimed Mansfield impulsively, pressing a kiss upon the cold cheek of Marian. "Can you bear the walk, dearest? it is a long way to your home; let me wrap this blanket around you."
"I can bear anything now!" she replied in a low tone. "Are the Indians gone?"