“No—no; don’t shoot, Buenos,” cried Clara, as she seized the already-leveled revolver. “See, they are friends—Captain Travers and the Delaware, who saved me from the Indians!”
“Are you sure, Clara?” doubtfully replied Ayres; but then a cry from one of the men settled this doubt, most agreeably.
“Miss Calhoun, you know us; we are friends. Who is that with you? If an enemy, we will rescue you from him.”
Clara and Buenos stepped forth from the cover, and then there ensued a warm greeting between the quartette, for even the Delaware appeared overjoyed at beholding the pale-faced squaw, once more.
“Buenos, tell this gentleman—I know he will help us,” eagerly uttered Clara, thinking first of her father’s peril.
In a few brief words Ayres stated the position of affairs at the emigrant train, as he had left it, and implored assistance. The captain, though experiencing a momentary sensation something akin to jealousy, at seeing how confidingly Clara clung to the young man—was greatly excited, and promptly offered his aid in the matter.
“Certainly I will. My old commander in danger! Good Lord! how strange! Quick—help the lady to mount; there’s plenty of horses, fortunately. The camp is only about two miles away, now. We’ll get there almost before you know it; and then for these red-skinned devils. No offense, I hope, Delaware?”
“No—me all white man, now. Cuss Injins all want, plenty bad, you like—all but Delaware,” grunted Tom.
Buenos quickly lifted Clara upon one of the horses, and then, following suit, the quartette were speedily dashing over the prairie, under the guidance of Delaware Tom, with the two extra horses following closely in their wake.
The spirits of the two lovers rose with every long leap of their mettlesome horses, though Buenos Ayres could not repress certain misgivings as he thought on the length of time that had transpired since he left the emigrant party. Could they have held out through the long, fearful night?