“God be praised!” exclaimed Roughgrove, when returning animation was manifest.
“Oh! I know you won’t kill me! For pity’s sake spare me!” said Mary.
“It is your father, my poor child!” said Roughgrove, pressing the girl to his heart.
“It is your father, my poor child!” said Roughgrove, pressing the girl to his heart.
“It is! it is!” cried the happy girl, clinging rapturously to the old man’s neck, and then, seizing the hands of the rest, she seemed to be half wild with delight.
“Dod—I—I mean that none of the black noctilerous savages shall ever hurt you as long as Sneak lives,” said Sneak, looking down at his gun, which had been broken off at the breech.
“How did you break that?” asked Boone.
“I broke it over the yaller feller’s head,” said he, “and I’d do it agin, before he should hurt Miss Mary, if it is the only one I’ve got.”
“I have an extra rifle at home,” said Glenn, “which shall be yours, as a reward for your gallant conduct.”