The onset of the twain was as the onset of the long-concealed tiger—absolutely irresistible. Two Indians went down before the battle fairly commenced, and the remaining three tried to gain the mouth of the corridor. But in vain, for one of the new foes planted himself before the aperture, and with the aid of his confederate beat the red-men back.
“No quarter, girl!” he shouted to his helper, as he sprung forward with uplifted rifle; but the next moment the stock of the weapon was shivered against the roof of the cave, and the barrel flew from his hands.
Quick as thought he sprung forward to reclaim it, and as he stooped the tomahawk of the sole surviving savage descended upon his head, and the great red hand caught him before he could fall.
The Girl Trailer uttered a cry of horror at this, and flew to the White Tiger’s relief; but the savage held his prey before him as a shield, leaped backward into the corridor before she could strike, and disappeared in the gloom, like an arrow!
She followed, but soon paused, and returned to kneel over Clearwater, weak with fright and anxiety.
“Oh, Clearwater, I am so glad that you, at least, are left me,” she said, taking the hand of the red girl. “The White Tiger and Silver Rifle have parted for the last time!”
Clearwater sighed, and gently pressed the white girl’s hand.
“But we will not be alone long,” she said. “Ahdeek will return before two more sleeps.”
“When was he last here?” asked Silver Rifle, eagerly.
“One sleep ago,” was the reply. “He came back to see that Clearwater was comfortable. He placed meat and drink within reach, and kissed her before he left. Yes, he will come back soon with Silver Rifle’s ring.”