He knew not the serpents could not reach him—knew not that the subtle power of the white-ash leaves the Medicine had scattered controlled the serpents far more effectually than fire would have done.
CHAPTER IV.
THE TEST OF LOVE.
"Wal," was the characteristic exclamation of the scout, though in a low, cautious whisper, as soon as they were alone, "ef this hain't er finishin' er trail about as suddint as any thin' I ever heard tell on."
"And my poor Olive," groaned the physician. "If it were not for her I could face death without a tremor."
"That hain't 'tall likely," was the reply. "Ther best on us can't do that. I've tried it more'n once—hain't no coward—and I know. But that isn't ther thing to be looked arter now, and thar hain't no use mournin' till ther time comes, nuther. Yet I hope ter heaven ther red-skins won't know me, fer it will go hard ef they do."
"Is there no way in which we can save the life of the poor girl?" continued his companion, his thoughts being intent upon her and not giving the slightest heed to what was being said.
"I don't know yet. Ther first thing ter be done is tew git ourselves clear. Ther red devils have tied me fer sartin, and they'll have er high old time ter-night."
"Do you think we shall be molested before morning?"