“The young chief is her lover, I think; and she fancied he was taking me to his wigwam.”
He laughed then.
“It was no laughing matter,” she said.
“No, of course not; very far from it. But it’s amusing to think she could be jealous of you.” He drew rein suddenly. “Hello! There are Indians down below. Blackfeet, too, and they’re coming this way; but I don’t think they’ve seen us. We’ve got to leave the trail and get into the hills here.”
He looked for rocky ground, and drew the horse out upon it.
The knowledge that another peril confronted her served to make Lena Forest more courageous. She released herself from her lover’s arms, and sat upright, shifting to a position behind him, where she would less hamper his movements. He chose rocky ground for the horse, and went on as fast as he could.
“We’ll be all right until these Blackfeet meet that young chief. And then they’ll learn about us, and, of course, will follow us at once.”
“They’re mounted, too!”
“Yes, on Indian ponies; and those ponies are better able to climb about these rocky hills than this big horse is. We must get as big a start of them as we can.”
He drove the horse on without mercy, forcing it at a swift pace over the rough country, trying all the time to pick ground that would leave a poor trail.