"What shall we do with him, Stevens?" he asked, doubtfully.
"Dead men tell no tales!" sternly responded the old settler, a deadly glitter in his black eyes.
"No—no, do not kill him, husband!" cried the wife, springing forward, as he raised aloft the blood-stained ox-bow.
"It is him or us, Mary," but the uplifted arm slowly sunk. "He would have killed us all, after eating our food!"
"Tie him and put him down the pit," suggested Jennie.
"It will do, Stevens," said Wilson. "They will find we suspect their plans, anyhow, when they find we are gone. It would only make them hotter after us, if we killed him."
"You may be right, Fred, but the dog is not fit to live. However, have it your own way."
A strong cord was quickly produced, and with it the rascal was bound hand and foot. Then a gag was forced between his jaws; after which a trap-door was lifted and the Indian cast rudely down into a pit, where were stored a few vegetables.
"Now what next?"
"You had better pack up such things as you must have, and such as we can carry; come with me to our house. John has told them all by this time, and they will be ready for a move. I don't think we will be safe out here as long as those two devils are at large, with their gang."