Mossuit’s prisoner was the White Tiger!
“Let me carry Clearwater, an’ she go,” said Ahdeek.
The Indians exchanged glances of horror.
“Ahdeek wants the Chippewas to untie his limbs, that he might run away in the big woods.”
“Liars!” was the thunderous response. “Is Ahdeek’s word worth nothing? Here, bind Clearwater on my back, an’ I’ll carry her with my hands still bound. If she leaves this hole in the ground it shall be on my person, not in the arms of an Indian.”
The half-breed was at once taken at his words. Clearwater was lifted from her couch, and, with more tenderness than the Indians usually exhibit to an enemy, lashed to her lover’s back.
A minute later the entire party were crawling through the gloomy passage again, and at length gained the forest above the lake.
Several hours had passed since the first combat in the cave, and the position of several stars told that it was near midnight.
From the lake came the hoarse mutterings of a storm, and the savages quickened their steps as they entered the city of ghostly trees.
Ahdeek, with his lovely burden, kept pace with them. He was a strong young fellow, who did not mind his load in the least, and often glanced with a smile at Silver Rifle, who kept at his side.