“Do you see that?”
“Horse tracks, I believe.”
“Yes, that tells the whole story; the scamp had his horse fastened among the trees, and has toted the gal here as fast as he could travel, mounted his critter and then put.”
“Shall we follow any further?”
“No; I don’t see as there is any use just now, as we haint got our horses; we’ll go back to camp and let ’em know what we’ve learned.”
Fred Wainwright all this time was in a fever of excitement, although he had made superhuman efforts to conceal it from his practical companion thus far; but he began to be seriously alarmed at the coolness and indifference which he manifested.
“Ward,” said he, endeavoring to speak in a matter-of-fact tone, “we’re going to follow these scamps, are we not?”
“I’ll promise you they’ll get such a chase as they never dreamed of; but you know enough to understand it’s going to be work and not play. That Apache having got his hands upon the gal, won’t let her go in a hurry.”
“You know the Apaches are an ugly set of people. How do you suppose they will treat her?”
“Just as the folks out east would treat General Washington’s mother, if she was alive and should go through the country. Cherouka wants to make her his squaw, and the old fool will try and win her love by kindness. No; we may take a week to capture her in and bring her back just as unharmed and free from insult as she was before she heard of Cherouka.”