“Dod! what’s the dogs been after?” ejaculated Sneak.
“Go in, Joe, and ask Mary what it means,” said Rough grove.
“I’d rather not—the house may be full of Indians,” replied Joe, relapsing into his natural cowardice.
“Mary,” said Roughgrove, approaching the door and calling affectionately. Receiving no reply, the old man entered and called again. A silence succeeded. Roughgrove reappeared a moment after, with a changed countenance. Boone gazed at his pale features, and asked the cause of his distress by a look, not a word.
“She’s gone! gone! gone!” exclaimed Roughgrove, covering his face with both hands.
Boone made no answer, but turning his face in the direction of the southern valley, he called upon the name of Mary three times, in clear and loud tones. He listened for her reply, in a motionless attitude, several minutes. But no reply came. Now a change came over his features. It was a ferocity from which even the blood-thirsty savages would have fled in horror!
“My eternal curse upon them! They have seized her! I have been deceived! I will have vengeance!” said he, in a low, determined tone.
“Will they kill her, or keep her for a ransom?” inquired Glenn, in extreme and painful excitement.
“A ransom,” said Boone; “but they shall pay the weight of the silver they demand in blood!”
“May Heaven guard her!” said Roughgrove, in piteous agony.