“Hold your hands now, boys,” shouted MacFearsome, drawing rein.
Those nearest to the chief obeyed, and the others, soon perceiving what was being done, rejoined their comrades.
“Where is Reuben?” asked MacFearsome, as they were turning towards the Fort.
Each looked at the other, but none could answer.
“I saw him down in the hollow, charging the Indians,” said one.
“And I saw him coming back by the stable-fence,” said another.
“Off with you to both places and look for him,” cried the chief, “and the rest of you follow me.”
They searched swiftly to and fro for some minutes, and soon found his riderless horse. Then a cry from one of their number was heard from the hollow. Galloping thither they found Reuben lying on his back, apparently dead, with an arrow in his chest.
In a moment Jacob was on his knees at his friend’s side, and soon the arrow was extracted, but it was found that blood gushed freely from the wound. Stanching this as best they could they bore the wounded man carefully to the Fort.
“Oh, father! I hope the fight is over now,” exclaimed Loo, as her sire rode through the gateway.