“I never will surrender to you,” was the fierce reply, as the now cornered desperado began slowly to retire, backward, to regain his stronghold.
He had retreated fully half-way to the entrance, when his heel caught in the rough floor of the ledge, and his balance was lost. For a moment he sought to regain his foothold, but, finding it gone, he gave a shout and leaped over the precipice.
The soldiers looked over the ledge and saw his form disappear in the trees beneath. Wells did not wait, but rushed to the cavern mouth.
“Miss Mamie.”
A form darkened the passage, and within stood Miss Hayward, smiling and blushing as if just caught at her toilet.
With a cry of joy Wells entered and clasped her to his bosom.
“Safe and uninjured! Thank God—thank God!” answered the maiden.
“Safe and restored; and, thank God, your brother, too, is recovered, and is now in our hands, doing well!”
“Then I am happy, indeed!” she could only reply, while tears of joy checked further utterance.
Wells had entirely forgotten Walker, in his moment of sweet communion with his restored friend. But, a shout which came up from the depths below recalled him to duty. It was a wild Indian war-whoop; then a succession of ejaculations which the men could plainly distinguish.