She sunk upon her knees as he released her, and raised her hands on high while her thoughts were breathed forth in the most agonizing prayer. But even as she was doing this—even as he was unfastening the curtains of the wigwam, an Indian warrior dashed up, waving a bloody scalp.
"God! Heaven! Mercy!" burst from the lips of the heart-broken girl. "It is that of—"
She could not finish the sentence, feeling that her lover had been murdered, and fell senseless to the ground.
"It is that of the scout, thank God!" said Parsons, feeling sure that the one he stood most in dread of was forever out of the way.
CHAPTER VI.
IN PERIL.
It was a terrible temptation to the scout when he crawled forth from the wigwam, to endeavor to find some weapon and at once attempt to inflict condign punishment upon the Indians, for the unprovoked murders they had been engaged in. But the folly of the proceeding when their numbers was taken into account, as well as the fact that the doctor and the beautiful girl were at their mercy, restrained him.
And what next was to be done was very difficult to determine. But the physician having thrown out a hint during their whispered conversation, that, if he could secure his medicine-chest, he might be able to work upon the superstition of the Indians, so as to make them afraid of him, he at once took the back-track to make an investigation concerning it.
But, the journey resulted in nothing, save that he gathered the mangled bodies that had been left to the mercy of the wolves, scooped out a rude grave, placed them within, covered it with earth and sod, leveled and stamped it down, and dragging the remnants of the wagons together, kindled a fire, that would keep away the animals and obliterate the marks of what he had done.