At length the cool night-air fanned the faces of the trio, and looking over Wacomet’s broad shoulders Effie saw the scintillating celestial worlds. But a moment later the current of air was interrupted, and Wacomet forced his prisoners into a natural niche before which he had paused. In the deeper gloom of the niche the trio remained as motionless as rocks, and presently they felt six figures, undistinguishable in the blackness, move past, like giant animals. No noise accompanied the new-comers to indicate their identity, but Wacomet knew each one as he passed. They were the members of the Death League, and Joe Girty crept at their head.
When the sounds died away in the gloomy distance, Wacomet drew a breath of relief and again glided toward the opening. Soon the three stood upon the flat rock just beyond the corridor, and faster than was requisite for safety the red chief hurried the two whites down the rocks.
In safety, however, the base of the cliff was reached, and along the bank, toward the head of the little stream, the Indian bounded, compelling his captives to keep pace with him.
He would seek the hidden place with his captives, and then return to the Death League with a mouth full of lies.
Already he had planned a deceptive story, and his wounded cheek would lend confirmation to his words.
Wacomet was a wily dog.
CHAPTER X.
THE RESCUE AND WHAT FOLLOWED.
The night was not far advanced when Kenowatha and the Girl Avenger reached the vicinity of the Indian village, and concealed themselves in the tall weeds that flourished there on the banks of the Maumee. Beside the flambeaus, they had borne disguises down from the cave, which they now proceeded to don. Kenowatha had laid aside the gray fox-tails that had formed a portion of his fantastic head-dress, divested himself of all the characteristic ornaments that were wont to distinguish him as the renegade’s young protege, and disguised himself as a common Indian boy—one of the many little red vagabonds that run about the Indian villages deep in mischief, long after their staider parents had yielded to the wooings of the somnolent god. He realized the peril attached to the expedition he had undertaken, he knew that a decree of outlawry had been passed against him, that the common warrior who took his scalp should forthwith be promoted to a full chief, and lead three hundred braves against the Black Snake, who at that hour was marching from Defiance to Victory.
Never before had he inaugurated action so perilous as the present one, and it seemed the pinnacle of rashness for two children—for in stature and years the avengers might be styled thus—to attempt to rescue a white spy from the midst of a tribe that could muster five thousand warriors.