But the brave little horse could not maintain his lead. The White Injun gradually drew closer and finally overtook the fleeing girl; then grabbing her reins, he brought Eagle to a standstill. Alta, in a frenzy of anger and fear, lashed the brute’s clutching hand and leering face; but he clung on in spite of the stinging whip until his two lagging bucks caught up.
“Grab her arms and tie ’em tight,” he commanded; “then bind her to the saddle.” The savages obeyed.
“Let me go, you beast!” screamed the girl.
“When I’m done with you.”
“Oh, you devil!” She struggled frantically to free herself from the torturing thongs, but seeing that it was useless, she suddenly checked and held herself with queenly self-control.
“We’ll see who’s boss this time, my fine lady,” Bud mocked at her; “I told you once that it was dangerous business to play with fire. Come on.” He jerked Eagle’s reins as he spoke and headed hurriedly toward the south, making his trail through the cover of the scattering groves. The two Indians followed closely behind, nervously looking about from time to time for pursuers.
But there were no friends to dash to her rescue. Uncle Dave, however, keeping anxious watch that morning, had seen it all from the hills above them. The sight fired his old heart; but he was too far away to lift an arm in her defense. The best he could do was to keep general track of the trail they were taking, and when they finally disappeared beyond the canyon a mile or so to the south, he started out afoot to rouse the ranchers. Half-way down Sage Creek, he met Fred, on a fresh horse and leading old Buck, galloping toward his cabin.
“Have you seen Alta?” was his first anxious word.
“Yes, boy, that white Injun has captured her.”