"It is sure that those whom we pursued in vain tonight were those whom we left besieged in the cave."
"I fear that you speak the truth. They bring no scalps, nor any prisoners to walk on red hot coals."
He spoke sadly and Henry noted a certain grim pathos in his words, which were the words of a savage. Yet the attitude of Red Eagle was dignified and majestic as he waited.
The file came on fast, Braxton Wyatt at its head. When the younger renegade reached the fire, he flung himself down beside it, seized a piece of deer meat, just cooked, and began to eat.
"I'm famished and worn out," he said.
"What did you do with the scalps, Braxton?" asked Blackstaffe, in silky tones—it may be that he thought the younger renegade assumed too much at times.
"They're on the heads of their owners," growled Wyatt.
"And how did that happen? You had them securely blockaded in a hole in a stone wall. I thought you had nothing to do but wait and take them."
"See here, Blackstaffe, I don't care for your taunting. They slipped out, although we kept the closest watch possible, and as they passed they slew one of our best warriors. I don't know how it was managed, but I think it was some infernal trick of that fellow Ware. Anyway, we were left with an empty cave, and then we came on as fast as we could. We did our best, and I've no excuses to make."
"I do not mock you," said Red Eagle gravely. "I have been tricked by the fox, Ware, myself, and so has Yellow Panther, the head chief of the Miamis. But we will catch him yet."