“The Indian has carried her off!” she exclaimed in anguish, and sank fainting to the floor.{170}
CHAPTER XXIII.
KIDNAPPED.
The Indian was fleet-footed, like most of his race. After obtaining possession of the child, he struck across the fields, for on the public road he would have been liable to be seen and stopped. Little Carrie was in the deep sleep of childhood, and did not awake for some time. This of course was favorable to his design, for he had over a mile to go before he reached the woods, in which the instinct of his race led him to take refuge. It was not till a stray twig touched her cheek that the little girl awoke.
Opening her eyes, her glance rested on the dark face of the Indian, and, as might have been expected, she uttered a shriek of terror. At the same time she tried to get away.
“Put me down,” she cried in her fright.
“Not yet,” said the Indian.
“Where are you taking me, you ugly Indian? I want to go to my mamma.”
“No go,” said the Indian.
“I want to go home,” said Carrie; and she renewed her efforts to get away.