The hunter uttered a strange exclamation.
“Ho-ho!” he muttered to himself, “the wind sits in that quarter, do it? Poor lad, I’m fear’d thar ain’t no chance for him.”
“I fear it,” said Nelatu, overhearing the muttered remark; “but, come!—what she has commenced, I will accomplish. At all risks I shall assist you in regaining your liberty.”
“Wal, I’ll be glad to get it.”
“Then, follow me!”
The Indian rapidly crossed the open space at the back of the house, and led the way to the edge of the forest.
The released captive strode silently after.
They paused under a grove of live oaks, in the shadow of which Carrol perceived a horse.
“It is yours,” said Nelatu, “follow the straight path, and you are free.”
“Nelatu,” said the backwoodsman, “you’ve done me a great sarvice. I’m goin’ to give you a bit of advice in return for it—”