Ahdeek met it near the entrance, and for several moments the noise of a desperate struggle resounded in the dark passage.
Then the shouts of victory cleft the close, hot air, tinctured with the odor of newly-spilled blood.
The cries were in the Chippewa language!
While Ahdeek was aware of the proximity of his foes, he was not wholly prepared for the tactics which they displayed. They knew that he and Silver Rifle were just beyond the threshold of the corridor, and had decided upon the action which inaugurated the attack. The advantages were with the assaulters, and in a brief time, which had cost the Indians two of their braves, the whites were overpowered and secured.
“Now,” cried Mossuit, elated with his triumph, “now we catch the traitress, and all shall die by the torture.”
Down the dark, grim corridor the captors went, bearing their prisoners, whose hands were lashed on their backs, and afforded no hopes of liberty.
“You best not touch Clearwater,” hissed Ahdeek, thinking only of the wounded girl, whom he had left on her couch of skins in the cave.
“She shall die!” was the response, “and that before the eyes of her yellow lover.”
“Who is not dead yet. Ahdeek swears that the brave who hurts Clearwater shall tread the long trail before the Manitou calls him home.”
The savages chuckled audibly over this threat, and examined the captives’ bonds to see that they were secure.