“Indeed I have; he often mentions your name. And now you repay that debt by saving the life of his daughter. He has often wondered where you were, and it will be a happy meeting; one that I trust will take place very soon.”
“Bes’ not mek talk now,” interrupted Indian Tom, significantly. “’Rapahoe he come back plenty soon. Find hoss—mad like de debble ’cause don’t fin’ squaw, too. Hunt fo’ her heap, mebbe. Won’t git her, dough, ’less kin whip us.”
“You’re right, Delaware. I can hear the sound of their horses’ hoofs on the rocks.”
“Are they coming? My God! I thought I had escaped them for good!” moaned Clara, fearfully.
“Have no fear, Miss Calhoun,” returned Travers. “They shall not harm you, even if they chance to discover us. There are only half a dozen in all, and surely we two can manage them. Can’t we, Delaware?”
“Yeh, fo’ sure. Don’t know much how mek fight, ’Rapahoe. Big cowards, dey is. Got white man ’long, dough.”
“Are you sure, Tom?”
“See um. Know um, too. Name Dusky Dick. Big decoy. White Injins—plenty bad—more so dan oders. Play snake fo’ train, so Injin git ’em,” tersely added the Indian.
Clara uttered a faint cry of apprehension, at the sound of his name, for she knew that now indeed she was in danger. The threats of Dusky Dick came back to memory with renewed force, and knowing, as he must, that she was astray in the mountains, he would spare no pains in order to make his words good.
“I see you know him, too; but never mind now. We must not converse any more. See! the devils are in sight, down yonder by the creek.”