A man, bearing a fainting woman across his saddle-bow, was coming up at full speed; in the distance several Indian warriors, doubtless wearied of an useless pursuit, were slowly retiring, while the fugitive rapidly drew nearer Unicorn.
The chief perceived at the first glance that he was a white. On arriving within a short distance of the spot where he lay in ambush, the newcomer looked round several times nervously; then he dismounted, took the female in his arms, laid her tenderly on the grass, and ran to the river to fill his hat with water. It was Harry, the Canadian hunter, and the female was Ellen.
So soon as he had gone off, Unicorn started from his hiding place, giving his wife a sign to follow him, and both approached the maiden, who was lying senseless on the ground. Sunbeam knelt by the side of the American girl, gently raised her head, and began paying her those delicate attentions of which women alone possess the secret. Almost immediately after, Harry ran up; but at the sight of the Indian he hurriedly dropped his hat, and drew a pistol from his girdle.
"Wah!" Unicorn said quickly, "My pale brother need not pull out his weapons—I am a friend."
"A friend?" Harry replied, ill-humouredly; "Can a redskin warrior be the friend of a white man?"
The chief crossed his arms on his broad chest, and boldly walked up to the hunter.
"I was hidden ten paces from you," he said; "had I been an enemy, the paleface would have been dead ere now."
The Canadian shook his head.
"That is possible," he said; "may heaven grant that you speak frankly, for the struggle I have gone through in saving this poor girl has so exhausted me that I could not defend her against you."
"Good!" the Indian continued, "She has nothing to fear; Unicorn is chief of his nation, when he gives his word he must be believed."