“Go first,” whispered Quito in her ear, “fly towards the rising sun.”
The whisper was so soft that the very grasshoppers at their side must have failed to hear it. In a moment both Indians stood up, and Quito lifted his wife lightly on the horse whose larryat she held.
Such a proceeding could not, of course, pass unnoticed in an Indian camp. Instantly a yell was given by a sentry. Just as Quito vaulted on his steed’s back a couple of arrows whizzed past his ear, and the young warrior whom they had first seen darted at his horse’s head. A blow from the butt of Quito’s gun felled him, and in another moment husband and wife were bounding away at full stretch over the plain—the former giving utterance to a shout of defiance, which the savages returned with yells of fury, accompanied by a mixed shower of arrows and bullets.
Just as Quito was bounding over the crest of a mound the chief of the Indians fired a shot at a venture. He took no aim, but the bullet sped with fatal accuracy, and pierced the heart of Quito’s horse, which fell heavily to the earth, sending its rider over its head. The Indian fell with such violence that he lay for a moment or two stunned. Seeing this, Laughing-eye at once reined up, and galloping back leaped to the ground. Quito rose, and, staggering towards the horse, made an effort to lift his wife on to its back. He failed, and before another attempt could be made the unfortunate fugitives were surrounded and recaptured.
Hopeless, indeed, was Quito’s case now. Death by slow torture was certain to be his end, while Laughing-eye would be doomed to slavery. Yet both husband and wife conducted themselves with quiet dignity, and an assumption of stoical indifference.
But their case was not so hopeless as they supposed. Other eyes besides those of their enemies witnessed what had passed.
Quito’s bosom friend, Bunker, on reaching the desolate village, and learning from the old woman what had occurred, set off in pursuit of his friend without delay, and travelled at his utmost speed. But the man whom he followed was about equal to himself in physical powers and endurance, so that he could not overtake him easily. On the way he fell in with four trappers like himself, who readily consented to join him. These all continued to advance together night and day, with the exception of the brief time devoted to necessary sleep, but they did not overtake Quito until he had reached the camp of his enemies. They gained on him during the time he lay watching the camp, and waiting for the hour of action. Arriving at the spot where he had left his bow and arrows, not half an hour after he had quitted it, they at once guessed that he was reconnoitring the camp, and resolved to await the issue. While the hunters were yet discussing the best method of procedure, the yell of the sentry was heard.
“Down with you, lads,” cried Bunker, sinking into the grass, “they’ll come this way.”
“No,” cried one of the others, “they’re off to the left—a man an’ a squaw.”