The roar with which he met them was compound in its nature, and altogether hideous! His mind was in a mingled condition of amazement and satisfaction at his escape, triumph at the success of his plan, and indignation at the cowardly wickedness of the savages. A rollicking species of mad pugnacity took possession of him, and the consequence was, that the sounds which issued from his leathern throat were positively inhuman.
The rushing mass of terror-stricken men, thus caught, as it were, between two fires, divided, in order to escape him. Dick was not sorry to observe this. He felt that the day was gained without further bloodshed. He knew that the superstitious dread in which he was held was a guarantee that the savages would not return; so, instead of turning with the trappers to join in the pursuit, he favoured them with a concluding and a peculiarly monstrous howl, and then rode quietly away by a circuitous route to his own cavern.
Thus he avoided March Marston, who, on finding that his friend Dick was out, had returned at full speed to aid his comrades, and arrived just in time to meet them returning, triumphant and panting, from their pursuit of the foe!
“Are they gone?” cried March in amazement.
“Ay, right slick away into the middle o’ nowhar,” replied Big Waller, laughing heartily. “Did ye iver hear such a roarer, comrades?”
“Have you licked ’em out an’ out?” continued the incredulous March, “Ay, out an’ out, an’ no mistake,” replied Bounce, dismounting.
“Well, that is lucky,” said March; “for my friend Dick I found was not—”
“Ah! we not have need him,” interrupted Gibault, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, “de Wild Man of de West hims come, an’—oh! you should see what hims have bin do!”
“The Wild Man again!” exclaimed March in dismay—“an’ me absent!”
Gibault nodded and laughed.