A moan of pain from the woman’s lips verified his assertion.
“Water, Tumult, water!” cried Town.; “let us save her, if we can.”
“It is no use, Town.; nothing can save me.”
It was the woman who spoke, in a feeble, smothered tone, as she nervously clutched at her throbbing brow.
“My God, Madge! is this reality, or some horrible vision?” cried Town., dropping on his knees beside her, and raising her head from the hard stone and pillowing it upon his breast.
“Yes, Town.—but save her—save Clara! It was she that he threw over the cliff!—save her, for she loves you!”
“The chief will save her; rest easy—”
“The chief!” she interrupted, with almost a shriek.
“Yes; Mahaska, the Sioux chief,” replied Town.
“Ah!” she sighed, painfully, “that accounts for our defeat.”