“‘It must have been nearly three o’clock, and although we saw some Indians at a distance, and had even come in sight of an Indian village of wigwams low down by the side of a hill and near a meandering stream, there were no other signs of life.
“‘Judge then of my horror and astonishment when suddenly from a neighbouring thicket there arose the most pitiful screams for help. The voice was a girl’s, and she was evidently English.
“‘“Follow me, lads,” I cried, drawing my sword.
“‘Next minute I found myself in a kind of glade. Here, close to a fire, were no fewer than five almost naked savages, their arms lying near by. They were as fearsome as a nightmare, and covered with war-paint.
“‘But near by, and tied to a tree, was a young white girl, evidently a captive, for whom torture unmentionable was being prepared.
“‘Although convulsed with terror and bedewed with tears, I could not help thinking—and thoughts travel quickly—that she was exceedingly beautiful.
“‘But I and my merry men gave those savages no time to think.
“‘I had a revolver in each hand. One fell dead at my first fire, and another was shot through the shoulder.
“‘They quickly fled, and with a blood-curdling yell which spoke of revenge to come.
“‘Then I turned my attention to the poor girl. My men cut her cords; but her hands were so swollen as to be for a time paralyzed. So, too, were her feet, so that even to stand was impossible.