"May ther devil burn and tear him with red-hot pinchers ferever and ever," growled the scout, from between his set teeth. "But, how much you must have suffered!"
"More than tongue can tell. But what of Olive? Is she alive? Is she well?"
"Yes—I believe so. But now, doctor, I must be off. I won't be gone very long and will bring yer somethin' to eat."
"Do not stay away any longer than is necessary."
"Yer kin bet all ther beaver-skins between heah and ther Mississip, I shan't be gone any longer than I kin posserbly help. I don't fancy ther neighborhood jest now any more than yer do."
"Now," muttered the scout, as he crawled forth into the open air again, "ter find ther Cloud."
It had grown very dark and he found his way along with difficulty, but knowing the direction of the village he steadily kept it until he could distinguish the light of the fires and even hear voices. He made his way to the trysting-place in the Indian graveyard and there awaited.
He had not long to wait, however, for Burning Cloud soon stole out from the wigwams, and when she reached the blazed trees that marked the spot devoted to the dwellings of the dead, she softly called the name of her lover.
He leaped lightly forward, and drawing her to him they sat down and conversed long and earnestly, for each had very much to tell.
Then he accompanied her as near the village as he dared—lingered and caressed her—and at last would have torn himself away and retreated to a more secure place. But, even as he turned around he was confronted by half a dozen warriors who had crept like serpents around, and was instantly pinioned.