"He's all right, madam—there he comes—they are all coming."
Thayor pushed his way ahead. He had heard the scream and recognized the voice.
"My God, Blakeman. What's the matter?" He was on his knees beside her now, her head resting in the hollow of his elbow.
"Madam's only fainted, sir. We got worried at your being gone so long."
Margaret tried to throw herself down beside her mother, but Holcomb held her back.
"No—let your father alone," he whispered—"and let us come away."
The trapper and the others, followed by Holcomb and Margaret, moved toward the camp, the torches illumining their faces. No one saw the hide-out. He was there—within touching distance, but he moved only in the shadows.
Alice opened her eyes and clasped both her arms around her husband's neck.
"Oh, Sam! tell me it is you—and you are safe, and nothing has happened? Oh! Sam—I have been so wretched!"
"There, dear—compose yourself. It's all right—everything is all right, and we have nothing to fear anywhere. Come, now—let me help you to your feet and—"