Florence was assisted gallantly to the ground, and allowed to take a seat near a tree, removed a few feet or so from the others, while they merely glanced at her as they moved hither and thither, Cherouka, however scarcely moving his eyes from her.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE RESCUE.
The Apaches had scarcely halted, when one of their number was observed to walk back toward the mouth of the gorge where he stationed himself. The two hunters looked at each other and smiled significantly, while Lancaster gave his younger companion a nudge in the side.
“How does that look, Fred? All right, aint it?”
“Yes; there hasn’t been a failure to-day in anything you have said or done.”
“Wal,” said the trapper with a complacent yawn, “if a feller hunts and traps for thirty years among the redskins, he ought to know somethin’ about ’em, hadn’t he?”
“Of course.”
“That’s all about it then; if you had been in my place, may be you’d’ve knowed pretty near as much. But that’s neither here nor there. Things look good; now I tell you what must be done, Fred. It’s time the boys were waked up and got ready; I’ll go up and bring them and the animals down where they’ll be handy, and then we’ll see what’s to be done, whether we’re to sarcumvent ’em or to sail in and knock ’em over.”
“Am I to remain here?”
“You’ll stay here till I come back and we’ll arrange things.”