Then the yells seemed to shift places, continuing only for a few moments; then dying entirely away. Then again came the loud reports of firearms, with shrill howls of anguish and terror. The plot was becoming somewhat tangled and complicated, and Fred's wonder increased.
Still he proceeded, though more deliberately, for under the circumstances he thought prudence was the wisest course for him to follow. Then he uttered a little exclamation as his foot struck against something yielding. There could be no mistaking this peculiar touch; he knew that he was standing over a corpse!
A convulsive shudder ran through his frame as he leaped back apace; but then he conquered this involuntary repugnance, and advancing, stooped over the form. Eyesight could avail him nothing here; the sense of feeling alone must be depended upon.
His hand touched the body, and a thrill pervaded his form as his fingers rested upon a soft, slimy substance. He knew it was blood, fast coagulating. Then a glad hope filled his heart as his hand encountered the smooth-shaven crown, with the long scalp-lock of an Indian. Perhaps his friends had not perished, after all!
He slowly moved away from the corpse, feeling along the ground with his feet, but for some moments, felt in vain. Then he again touched something that he knew was another victim.
Stooping, his hand rested upon the unmistakable dress of a white man. Gliding up the body, he then felt of the face. The long heavy beard there confirmed his suspicions. He felt assured that the dead body of Wesley Stevens lay before him.
And then a low cry of agonizing horror broke from his lips, as he touched a woman's dress. He staggered back and sunk to the ground, trembling and unnerved. He feared the worst. He dreaded to move, lest he should find the dead and mangled corse of his loved one—of sweet Jennie Stevens.
But then with an effort he aroused himself, and without a thought for the danger he might thus incur, he struck a match and bent over the forms of the ill-fated fugitives. By its faint flickering rays, he recognized the father and mother; the light also showed him the bare and gory skulls where the scalps had been ruthlessly torn away.
He only saw this much, when the match burned to his finger tips and then expired. Tremblingly he essayed to light another, but he was too greatly unnerved. He sunk down upon the blood-stained ground and covered his eyes as though he would shut out the horrible vision that filled his brain.
It was a moment of frightful torture, and it seemed as though he would go mad. He believed that the dear one, whom he loved better than his own life, was lying near at hand, dead—murdered like her parents.