It was the bowie-knife of old ’Lije Orton that had inflicted the fatal stab.
At the same instant another man, rushing out from the same cover, clasped the captive girl in his arms, and tenderly lifted her from the saddle.
She was surprised, but not terrified. There could be no more terror there. If there had, it would have passed in a moment, when in her deliverer she recognised one who, for five long years, had been alike the torture and solace of her thoughts.
Chapter Twenty Two.
The Scene Re-arranged.
Edward O’Neil held Clara Blackadder in his arms. He now knew she loved and had been true to him, though not from any words that had passed between them.
There was scarce time for them to do more than pronounce one another’s names; but the glance exchanged was eloquent to the hearts of both. Each saw in the other’s eyes that the old fondness was still there, strengthened, if aught changed, by the trials through which they had passed.
Almost on the instant of their coming together they were again parted by the trappers; who, with ’Lije Orton and Black Harris directing them, had hastily commenced rearranging the ambuscade. Every moment they might expect the return of the Indians. A scout, who had hurried up to the crest of the ridge, telegraphed back why the savages had ridden off.