The struggle promised to be a long and hard one if Carl were left to fight it alone. But this the other boys did not propose to allow, and they immediately began to cross on the rope ladder.
This the other boys did not propose should be the case. Forgetting all fear for themselves in the face of Carl's danger, they immediately prepared to utilize the rope ladder, crossing even more quickly than Carl had done and surely with less caution, for their only thought was to come to the rescue of their friend.
Carl's assailant, whose every energy was strained to gain an advantage, did not hear their approach. Before he realized it he found himself helpless in the hands of the strong palefaces, his hands tied behind his back, a threatening Remington, in the hands of Jerry, pointed meaningly in his direction. He was very much the worse for wear, his face having been severely scratched across the lines of paint, and his clothes considerably disarranged.
"Well, what shall we do with him?" asked Dunk, turning to Carl. "He ought to be pitched over the ravine."
But the Indian boy's face wore a strange expression. His eyes were wide and staring, and he stood, pale and open-mouthed, regarding his helpless enemy.
"What's the matter!" cried Gray, alarmed.