“No, sir; thanks to your timely arrival I have escaped from a fearful death. Oh, sir, you must excuse me if I do not thank you sufficiently. What I have gone through has unnerved me,” said the fair girl, in a voice which to Chauncy seemed the sweetest he had ever heard in all his life.
“Any one would have done the same,” he said.
This seems to be the regular programme on such occasions, and Chauncy followed the general rule, most probably because he knew nothing else that would be so appropriate.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but any one would not have done what you have,” replied the other.
“Then he would have been nothing but a brute. I had hardly time to aim and fire, but I am sure that had I seen your face I would never have shot the panther,” exclaimed Chauncy.
“And why not?” questioned the beautiful maiden.
“Because I could not have taken my eyes off of it! You must pardon me if I seem rude, but the truth is, I am surprised at seeing a woman out here, and a young and beautiful one at that.”
“It does not matter, sir. If you are surprised at seeing me here I must confess that I am equally surprised at your sudden appearance. I had no idea a human being, except it be Comanches, was within twenty miles of this spot, and they are as bad as the panther. You must know, then, that I was very much astonished when you fired your gun.”
Chauncy did not have to remain long in suspense, for she told her story in a very few words.
Her name was Donna Iola, and she was the daughter of an American who had married a Mexican. She had been out riding and had been captured by a band of Comanches, under the chief Red Buffalo. They had taken her north to their village, and from thence, in the night, she managed to escape on one of the mustangs.