But the sergeant in crossing came to grief, for there stood on the other bank as sentinel a young brave who was striving to win a name for himself.
He saw in the moonlight a horse and rider crossing the ford; so, taking aim, the redskin fired, pulling trigger just as he discovered that it was not a paleface but an Indian.
The sergeant felt a stinging pain in his shoulder, the blood began to flow; he, therefore, turned back, fearing that he was seriously wounded, and did not know why he had been fired on.
Fortunately Surgeon Denmead was there, and at once went to work on him, remarking after a while:
“I have got the ball, Worth, and, with care, the wound will not be fatal, though serious.”
CHAPTER X.
THE RESCUER REACHES THE GOAL.
One afternoon, a week after Lucille’s coming to the Indian village as a captive, and while Lucille and the chief, Death Face, who had proved to be half white, were seated upon the little piazza looking at the sunset, the young man on the chair, the maiden in the hammock, there suddenly dashed around the corner of the cabin a tall form, brandishing a revolver in each hand. He had his revolver leveled full at the young man, as he called out sternly: