"God, ever God, father," the girl answered, with sparkling eye and trembling lip; "God, ever; for, however unworthy we may be of His pity; He is merciful, and perhaps will not abandon us."
"Build then on him, fool as you are, and you will be dead in two days."
"No," she exclaimed, joyfully, "for He has heard me, and sends us help."
The bandit looked and fell back on the ground, closing his eyes, and muttering in a hollow voice the words which for some time past had constantly risen from his heart to his lips, and involuntarily mastered him.
"God! Can He exist?"
A terrible question which he incessantly asked himself, and to which his obstinate conscience was beginning to respond, for the granite coating of his heart was beginning to crumble away beneath the repeated blows of remorse. But Ellen did not notice Red Cedar's state of prostration, she had risen and rushed forward, with outstretched arms, crying as loudly as her voice permitted her—"Help, help!"
The young girl had fancied she heard, for some minutes past, a peculiar rustling in the foliage. This noise, at first remote and almost unnoticeable, had rapidly approached; soon lights had glistened through the trees, and the footsteps of a numerous party had distinctly smitten her ear. In fact, she had scarce gone a dozen yards, ere she found herself in the presence of a dozen mounted Indians, holding torches, and escorting two persons wrapped in long cloaks.
"Help! Help!" Ellen repeated, as she fell on her knees, with outstretched arms.
The horsemen stopped; one of them dismounted, and ran to the girl, whom he took by the hands, and forced to rise.
"Help for whom, my poor girl?" he asked her in a soft voice.