I did not stop to listen; but urging my horse afresh, I rode on. At a bend of the road, I saw three horses tied to the trees. I knew they were those of Ringgold and his companions, but I could not tell why they had left them.
I stayed not to speculate, but galloped forward upon the ground. Just as I had anticipated, the three were there—the half-blood was in their hands!
They had crept upon him unawares—that was why their horses had been left behind—and caught him just as he was about stepping into his canoe. He was unarmed—for the rifle I had given him was still wet, and the mulatto had made away with his knife—he could offer no resistance, and was therefore secured at once.
They had been quick about it, for they had already stripped off his hunting-shirt, and tied him to a tree. They were just about to vent their spite on him—by flogging him on the bare back with cowhides which they carried in their hands. No doubt they would have laid them on heavily, had I not arrived in time.
“Shame, Arens Ringgold! shame!” I cried as I rode up. “This is cowardly, and I shall report it to the whole settlement.”
Ringgold stammered out some excuse, but was evidently staggered at my sudden appearance.
“The darned Injun desarves it,” growled Williams.
“For what, Master Williams?” I inquired.
“For waggin his jaw so imperent to white men.”
“He’s got no business over here,” chimed in Spence; “he has got no right to come this side of the river.”