She had no desire to fall again into the hands of Indians. Her experience with Lightfoot was vivid in her memory, causing her to shudder at the recollection. Much as she detested her captor, to be Lightfoot’s prisoner again would be worse; and now that Black John was promising to convey her to her friends without delay, she was beginning to believe in his sincerity. She did not, therefore, make objection when he bore her away in front of him on the pony.
He turned into the gorge after a sharp run. His manner in doing it would have shown her that the country there was familiar to him, if she had been experienced in judging of such things.
When he had ridden at top speed some distance into the gorge, over rocky ground which left no hoofprints, he drew rein and leaped down.
“We can baffle ’em, I think,” he said, lifting her from the horse, “if we move lively now. Redskins aire purty hard ter fool, but I think I can fool these red gentlemen handsome.”
He looked about a moment, then pulled a leaf of thorny cactus and thrust it under the saddle girth.
The pain of the cactus caused the horse to rear and plunge. “Go on with ye now!” he said. “Git!” He gave it a heavy slap, which started it along the trail. The pricking of the cactus caused it to continue on at a headlong gallop.
“Quick, now!” he said, taking the girl by the hand.
She yielded her hand willingly. She was trembling, frightened, and almost breathless, and her limbs were quaking under her, so that she could hardly stand.
“I’ll help ye!” he said encouragingly, pulling her along, up the rocky slope.
When she stumbled, as she did, now and then, his hand sustained her from falling; and when places were reached which she was too weak to surmount he lifted her in his arms.