“Hush, not too loud,” cautioned the scout, fearing she might betray the presence of a stranger.
“Wal, I’ll be careful,” she whispered, in a slightly-modulated key. “But whar’s yer comrades? Ye didn’t come alone?”
“That don’t sound much like Emily,” the scout thought to himself. “Maybe she’s dropped that polite way she used to have o’ speakin’. Though I did like to hear such words from her purty lips.”
“I’m alone here,” he whispered; “though Charles Markley—”
Before David could proceed further he became aware that his presence was discovered. The four Indians had stolen cautiously from the hut, and were silently approaching, when one of their number stepped upon a round stick, which came near throwing him to the ground. Seeing their movements were discovered the savages gave a yell, and rushed forward.
Quick as thought the scout’s rifle flew to his shoulder, while its tongue of flame arrested one savage midway.
But he was not to escape this time. The Indian with the hatchet hurled it furiously, and although the blade passed harmlessly, the handle struck just above David’s ear, knocking him senseless to the earth. At the same moment the others fired their rifles, but the bullets passed harmlessly by. His fall had saved him.
Great, indeed, was their rejoicing when they found how mighty was the foe that had been conquered. Their savage exultation seemed to know no bounds. Many were anxious that he might at once be put to torture, but the brave who held command during the absence of Ashbey ordered the prisoner to be put in confinement, to await the return of his superior. As no one dared dispute his authority, the prisoner was led away toward the place where Alfred was already confined.