"She hid herself," growled Slade. "I was still looking for her."
"Big mouth—big lie!" scoffed Cochise, and he thrust the flame of the candle against Slade's nose.
The trader puffed out the light. Lennon had been edging around toward the door. He took instant advantage of the darkness to slip out and run toward the living room. There he might hope to find a rifle and die fighting.
In the anteroom he came face to face with a pair of Apaches, who stood on guard over Carmena. At their gestures, emphasized by half-raised rifles, he backed into the corner beside the girl. She flashed him a look of profound relief and put a tremulous hand on his arm.
"Jack—I thought they'd killed you. Slade?"
"Prisoner, like ourselves. But they've still to find Elsie—no thanks to you!"
He drew away as if her touch were a pollution. She flushed, hesitated, and opened her lips to speak. With a burst of yells, the Apaches rushed in, dragging Slade in their midst.
At sight of Lennon, Cochise wrinkled his bruised forehead in a scowl of evil satisfaction. But when he swaggered forward he looked only at Carmena.
"Slade swear you hide my woman," he said.
"How could I?" replied Carmena. "He had me tied up and lowered to you. He was up here with her all that time."