A wild yell rung through the wood, and a score of painted savages bounded swiftly forward. They had determined upon a desperate charge, evidently; and this mode of attack so different from the customary warfare of the red-man provoked a cry of rage from Glyndon’s lips.
“Blast ’em!” he shouted, “somebody’s told ’em just how to beat us—but give ’em Jessie! Come on, you murdering thieves!”
The three rifles cracked simultaneously, and two of the advancing warriors went down in their tracks; but Cute missed the tall Indian, the leader of the party, and the savages came on unchecked, like a huge ocean wave. Our three scouts were instantly surrounded. The two boys fought back to back, with revolver and bowie-knife in either hand.
Glyndon clutched his long rifle by the barrel and swept the Indians from his path as he fought his way to the river. He reached the bank and plunged into its turbid tide. He was loth to leave the boys to their fate, but he knew he was powerless to help them—and self-preservation is the first law of nature.
Percy Cute received a blow from a tomahawk that stretched him upon the ground; and Percy Vere found himself clutched by the strong arm of the chief—a hideous-looking object in his war-paint. The warriors drew back, as if feeling that the boy could not cope with his formidable opponent.
Percy’s weapons were struck from his hands, and he was hurled to the ground. The hideous face of the savage glared over him, and his knee was pressed upon the boy’s chest, nearly suffocating him. Percy gave himself up for lost.
The chief clutched at his throat with his left hand, brandishing his scalping-knife in his right. His fingers came in contact with the ribbon that Percy wore around his neck, and the locket was pulled forth and sprung open.
The chief’s eyes fell upon the faces it contained, and a cry of amazement burst from his lips. He sprung to his feet.
A brawny savage was approaching Cute to give him his finishing-blow.
“Hold!” shouted the chief, in a voice that was shrill and loud, like a bugle-call. “Harm him not—harm neither—they are my captives, and their lives are sacred.”