“Nothin’ surer. As soon as I see yer father and mother on the way to safety, I’m off on the trail.”
“I am with you, my friend, to the end. May Heaven reward you for your noble efforts.”
“Don’t want any reward of that kind. If I can help to git back an angel like Emily, that’s enough.”
“She is an angel, David, you may well say that,” remarked the youth, impulsively. “But why may we not away at once?”
“No occasion for a hurry,” coolly replied the scout. “We must stay an’ see the old folks on their way, for they will have hot work, most likely. Then we will take the trail.”
“Then you are quite sure Mr. Hinton and George were both killed?” asked Charles, with a tear in his eye.
“Yes,” the scout returned. “They were both killed. I fixed a couple o’ the reds, one of ’em a chief at that, but I couldn’t save the poor men. However, it’s time we were movin’, so jist collect the rifles and traps, then hurry the rest up. I’ll go an’ see if there’s any signs o’ Injins.”
As David spoke he passed through the door, and was quickly in the depths of the forest. Philip and his son had not lost a moment, and soon the span of noble bays were attached to the strong wagon, and driven around to the door. Even then the red light from the burning cabin of the Hintons could be seen glaring above the tree-tops. Charles was just driving home the bullet in the rifle, and the little stock of articles which had been selected was soon placed on the vehicle.
At that moment a shadowy form appeared crossing the fields, but it was soon apparent that it was none other than the scout.
“Into the wagon, quick!” he exclaimed, as he drew near. “The red-skins are comin’.”