They were within some fifty yards of the prison, when a loud yell, quickly followed by the report of a musket, broke upon the group. The ringing crack of a rifle followed a moment after, while a more fearful yell told that some victim had fallen.
Too well the scout knew the meaning of all this. Charles had, in some manner, been discovered. The warriors of the party, leaving a force to guard the prisoner, started in the direction of the reports. Just as they reached the prison-door, a more distant rifle-shot, followed by another yell of pain, told that the fugitive was still free.
But David could see no more.
Could it be that Charles had succeeded in freeing his brother? The thought was full of pleasure, but it seemed hardly probable. He called aloud:
“Alf, my boy!”
“Here!” was the answer. “And you, my brave friend, here too?”
“Yis, my boy,” the hunter responded, in as cheerful tones as he could assume; “though it’s mighty against my will, that’s true as ye live. But I’ve bin in worse places nor this, an’ even in this very hole once afore. We’ll make our way out, no kind o’ danger about that. Charley would have let you loose afore this, only the red rascals got wind o’ what he’s at.”
David had by this time found the whereabouts of the young man, and bending closer, he whispered in his ear:
“We’re not so destitute as you may suppose. I’ve two pistols under my coat which the dogs overlooked, and they may come in good play if either of us gets a hand loose.”
The knowledge that they had weapons seemed instantly to raise the drooping spirits of Alfred.