As soon as the Swamp Dragoons found their tongues, they uttered loud yells of surprise and alarm, and called upon the men about the fire for assistance.
“What’s the matter over thar?” demanded the gruff voice of Luke Redman.[Redman.]
“Mark Coleman!” gasped the leader of the Dragoons. “We ketched him, but he has got away. Thar he is, runnin’ through the cane like a skeered turkey!”
“Turn your dogs loose on him!” shouted Luke. “Come, Injuns, do something fur us!”
There was no need that Luke Redman should call upon Pete and his companions for help. The former, at least, had reasons for wishing to prevent my escape, and as soon as he found out what was going on, he set up a whoop and started in pursuit.
I did not waste time in looking back at him, but my ears told me that he was coming, and that he was gaining on me at every step.
I heard the fierce yelps the hounds gave when they found my trail, and knew they would overtake me if the Indians did not. They might even tear me in pieces before their masters could come up to rescue me; but fearing the rawhide more than the teeth of the dogs, I kept straight ahead, doing some of the best running I ever did in my life, until a heavy hand was laid upon my collar, and I was jerked backward and thrown upon the ground.
“Ugh!” grunted Pete. “White boy good runner—very good runner; but no match for Injun. S’pose I put dogs on him!”
The Swamp Dragoons and the bloodhounds came up at this moment, and I feared that between them both I should be severely dealt with.
The dogs seemed determined to bite me, Jake and Tom were bent on taking revenge on me for knocking them down, while Pete, although he at first made some show of protecting me, was more than half inclined to allow them to act their pleasure.