“Come into the lodge, dear girl,” said the chief’s wife, in a whisper, “it is the Aerial Demon.”
They turned toward the door of the little cone-shaped structure. Just then the clatter of iron-shod hoofs coming up the stony valley caught their ears. They stopped.
The next instant a white man, mounted upon a mettlesome animal, dashed from the gloom and stopped so quickly by the side of the terrified women that his animal was thrown back upon its haunches.
It was Rodger Rainbolt, the ranger!
Before Black Bear and his savages could draw their attention from the Aerial Demon—which in a moment, almost, had passed over the camp and disappeared—the daring ranger leaned forward in his stirrups—placed his arm about Silvia’s waist—lifted her from the ground as though she had been an infant—whirled his animal southward and dashed away into the gloom of the forest, pursued by Black Bear and his warriors.
As the ranger turned his animal he gave Silver Voice one quick glance that seemed to pierce her to the heart. She threw up her hands—clutched wildly at space—uttered a low, convulsive sob and sunk unconscious into the arms of her husband, Allacotah.
CHAPTER VI.
THE HIDDEN HOME.
Away through the dark wood and down the mountain defile, the ranger dashed with his precious burden.
Silvia uttered no word of fear, no cry of pain. She had caught a glimpse of the ranger’s noble, handsome face as he lifted her from the ground in the Indian encampment, and, as if by magic, her heart became inspired with confidence in him.