"Ugh!" grunted he, in order to express his dissatisfaction at the long absence of his associate, I suppose.
Then he shouted, and waited for a response from his absent friend; but he did not hold still long enough to enable me to cover his head with the muzzle of my piece. I was so excited by the consideration of the fatal consequences to me, and perhaps to Ella, if I failed to bring him down, that I had not pluck enough to fire. I had slain one man, and it was awful to think of killing another. I would have given all the gold in my pocket if Kit Cruncher had stood by my side at that instant, and relieved me of the fearful responsibility of the occasion.
Of course there was no response to the call of the Indian; and, after glancing all around him, he walked rapidly down the path on the bank of the creek in search of his lost mate. This movement on his part afforded me a new hope. As Ella had not come to the stream with her surviving captor, it was evident enough that he had left her at the camp fire, probably tied to a tree, or otherwise secured.
I waited till the Indian had disappeared, and then hastened in the direction of the camp. I did not take much pains to move without noise, for I concluded that the Indian would have his ear to the ground frequently, to obtain tidings of his missing associate. I ran with all the speed I could command. I found Ella fastened to a tree near the fire. Her hands were tied behind her, so that she was unable to help herself.
"O, Phil Farringford!" cried she, as I approached.
"Don't make any noise, Ella," I replied, cutting the cords which bound her. "Follow me, and be very careful."
"Where are the Indians?" she asked, in a whisper, her teeth chattering with terror and excitement.
"I have shot one, and the other is not far off."
I conducted my fair companion a short distance down the brook, and taking her in my arms, I bore her across the stream.
"Hark!" said I, as I placed her on the other side.