As she uttered the last word she moved to the crevice again.
“Who blows that bugle?” the girl asked, curiously, trying to catch sight of the blower; but the next moment a dark figure rose between her and the stars.
It was the burly body of the guard, and his action told the girl that he had purposely obstructed her line of vision.
The next bugle blast was broken by the voice of the Indian, who stood against the lodge.
“Dog! will you give your mouth no rest?” said the guard, angrily.
Mouseskin's eyes flashed at this, and Feel-the-Sky advanced to bestow the threatened kick.
All at once, like a panther preparing for a spring, the noisy Sioux boy dropped to the ground, and the next moment threw himself heavily upon the guard.
Dora Lightway, the girl captive, heard the collision, and saw two figures writhing and struggling in the dim light.
Like two mastiffs contending for victory, the redskins fought just without the birchen lodge. The advantage was with the boy, whose sudden charge had taken his adversary at a disadvantage.
“Ah! me, a groan! the knife on one is at work,” Dora said, with a shudder for the sounds that assailed her ears.