His arm enclasped her waist.
The confession had been made. The die was cast!
They were both startled by a sound heard near. It was like some one sighing.
Warren, with the eye of a lynx, searched among the weeds and wild vines, and pierced through the foliage on all sides, but saw nothing.
Reassuring her with honeyed words, he then led the girl away from the spot.
As soon as they had disappeared a man’s form was seen standing upon the place they had last occupied; while another was visible at no great distance from it.
He who first made appearance seemed utterly bowed down with grief, whilst a cloud black as night was visible on his brow. It was the chief, Wacora!
With an angry and contemptuous action he flung some pieces of money to the other who had followed him, and was the negro Crookleg.
“Begone! Wacora may use you for his revenge—you shall not witness his grief. Begone!”
The black picked up the coins, grinned hideously and hobbled away.