“The Indians made her a prisoner!”
“Vinnie! My Vinnie a prisoner in the hands of those devils! And you let them take her?”
“Stop!” exclaimed the young man, while an expression of keen pain swept across his face. “I could not help it! I would gladly have laid down my life to save hers! For a time we fought them side by side. There are five dead Indians here on the floor. She killed two of them. Only two of the chambers of her revolver were loaded; and after they were emptied I fought them alone, shielding her form with mine. Then I was set upon from all sides at once, and she was snatched away from me. I did all I could. She was my Vinnie, too, Mr. Darke, and I will wrest her from the power of that red demon or die in the attempt! You do me injustice!”
“Pardon me, boy,” said the woodman, extending his hand, which was readily taken by Clancy. “I was mad! I did not mean what I said—please forget it if you can. If we can not get her back, I believe I shall go crazy!”
“Oh, we can get her back—we must!” cried the young hunter. “We must get help and follow them and take her out of their hands or die!”
“How many are there in the party?” asked Darke.
“I am not certain. At the beginning I think there were about a dozen or fifteen—I do not know exactly. Five are dead.”
“There are seven dead!” replied Darke. “I shot two outside!”
“Then there must be a half-dozen, more or less, that have escaped, taking Vinnie with them.”
“They have been gone twenty minutes,” said the woodman; “and we must act at once!”