“Walter Barrows and the young lady passed me not an hour ago. They went on down the creek.”
“My soul!” gasped Harmon, with white face, “that was Barrows pistol without doubt. He an’ the gal have certainly fallen into the grip of ther Injuns. We must make lively work to save ‘em.”
Frank Reade, Jr., had listened to this report with a sensation of horror.
Barney and Pomp had at once desisted in their fun-making, and Barney proceeded to open the Steam Man’s furnace.
The crack of rifles now sounded all around the camp.
The savages, without doubt, were drawing their line closer, and meant if possible to exterminate the little band of Vigilants.
But a line of defense was then thrown out, and the skulking savages were held at bay.
But a desultory and very unsatisfactory species of warfare was kept up in the darkness.
It was impossible to tell how to move or where.
The enemy fired from all directions and practically at random.