Scarcely had the world-famous desperado squatted down, with Dew Drop on his left and Comanche Tony on his right, than howls and yells of exultation reached them, telling them that the savages had discovered the three dead bodies at the foot of the cliff.
"By my scalp! we didn't git hyar any too soon, I reckon, jedgin' by them whoops," whispered the old Indian fighter.
But his master paid him no heed.
The action of the red-hued maiden in coming to him when he was in such sore need puzzled him, and he was racking his brain to remember whether or not he had ever seen her before.
Unable to place her, his mind once more reverted to the thought that her opportune appearance might have been but a part of a plot conceived by Great Bear to lure him and his men to the cave of the witch that they might be slaughtered without chance of escape.
If such were, in truth, the case, he and his companions were wasting precious moments.
Determined to end his suspense, Jesse clutched the maiden in a vice-like grip with his left hand, raising his bowie knife in his right, ready to plunge it into her heart, as he whispered in a tense, hoarse voice:
"Tell me why you brought me here! Was it at Great Bear's order? Tell the truth, as you hope to carry your scalp to the Happy Hunting Ground!"
Startled by the suddenness of the move and frightened by the stern face peering into hers, her eyes rivetted on the keen edged blade, Dew Drop blinked.