The single spectator sprung from the wall, and, rifle in hand, darted toward the mouth of the corridor.
But Renadah saw the movement, and, relinquishing his victim, turned and pursued.
A few bounds brought him near the girl, whose limbs were bruised by the rocks against which the waves had hurled her unconscious body, and suddenly, still in the firelight, she stopped.
She saw the giant form that swooped down upon her, and as the red arm leaped forward to claim the prize which it had just won, she struck with the butt of her rifle!
“Coocha!” shrieked Renadah, recoiling from the blow, which had driven the flint to the bone of his arm. “Silver Rifle—”
The girl’s action broke the sentence, and he threw up his arm again to ward off the second stroke.
But the shield was useless, for Silver Rifle seemed to spring into the air as she dealt the blow, and with a cry closely allied to a death-groan, Renadah staggered back and dropped beside his victim!
“Free again!” said the victor, surveying the work of rifle and hatchet. “Little did Dohma think that he was bearing me to my stronghold when he brought me hither! Noble red youth, you saved my life to-day; would to heaven I could have saved yours! The giant must have seen me borne home, and so he followed. Dangers thicken fast—dangers and love,” and a smile played with her lips. “I did not seek this wild land for lovers—especially red ones. No, I came hither to find a father, or a ring that will tell me much. Silver Rifle, the Girl Trailer, will find the ring! The White Tiger of the lakes wears it on his hand, and she has commanded him to give it to its owner. He shall comply or die!”
With the last word a sound startled her, and she glanced toward the savages.
Dohma was sitting bolt upright!