In the shadow he sees several figures clustering around Bosley and his horse; then hears names pronounced, one which chills the blood within his veins—almost freezing it.
He stands transfixed; cowering as one detected in an act of crime, and by a strong hand held in the attitude in which caught! Only for a short while thus; then, starting up, he rushes to regain his horse, jerks the bridle from the back, and drags the animal in the direction of his captive. Tossing her upon the pommel of the saddle, he springs into it. But she too has heard names, and now makes herself heard, shouting, “Help—help!”
Chapter Sixty Two.
“Help! Help!”
Baulked in their attempt to ambuscade the supposed Indians, Clancy and his companions thought not of abandoning the search for them. On the contrary, they continued it with renewed eagerness, their interest excited by the unexplained disappearance of the party.
And they have succeeded in finding it, for it is they who surround Bosley, having surprised him unsuspectingly puffing away at his pipe. How they made approach, remains to be told.
On reaching the river’s bank, and there seeing nought of the strange equestrians, their first feeling was profound astonishment. On Woodley’s part, also, some relapse to a belief in the supernatural; Heywood, to a certain degree, sharing it.
“Odd it air!” mutters Sime, with an ominous shake of the head. “Tarnashun odd! Whar kin they hev been, an’ whar hev they goed?”