As they wound around a rugged spur, the sharp report of a rifle was heard.
"My God! I have received my death wound!" cried the renegade, and he reeled in his saddle, drew rein, and slowly slipped from his saddle to the ground.
Instantly Jennie checked her horse and sat motionless in her saddle, gazing about her in a dazed sort of way, when suddenly there bounded into the trail before her the tall form of a Sioux chief. Seizing the bridle-rein of Jennie's horse, he said in a voice full of triumph:
"The Snow Flower cannot run away from the Red Hatchet."
They were his last words, for a form came bounding toward him, and the chief turned quickly and raised his rifle.
But he was not as quick as the one running upon him, for a revolver shot rang out, and Red Hatchet fell dead, a bullet in the center of his forehead.
"Do not be alarmed, Miss Woodbridge, for I am Kit Carey now, not Moon Eyes, the medicine man," and the soldier stepped forward, while he added:
"The sooner we get away from here the better for us."
"But he is not dead, sir," cried Jennie, now finding her voice and pointing to Vance Bernard.