At a signal from Wacora, Nelatu started in pursuit.
“May the lightnings blast all who have brought about this! Fool that I was just now to feel pity for the pale-faces; nothing that revenge can accomplish will make up for this. Here I swear to take vengeance far more terrible—vengeance to which that of last night shall be but a mockery!”
With these words the young chief hastened away from the spot, followed by Maracota and the messenger.
Chapter Thirty Two.
“Spare Her! Spare Her!”
The opportunity of this vengeance was already close at hand.
Within the space enclosed by the Indian tents, under guard of some warriors, stood a group of pale-face prisoners.
It consisted of several men, and among them a young girl.