The White Fox’s proposition found favor in Nanette’s eyes. She felt that Rudolph Runnion was a murderer, deserving a murderer’s reward, and then he was the enemy of those who were her friends. Under these circumstances she believed that they would be justified in delivering him over to the avengers of youthful blood, and thus spoke to Kenowatha.
They were nearer the fort now than they would be when at the hidden home, and intent upon accomplishing the work they had resolved upon, Kenowatha glided from his companion’s side, and a moment later was lost in the gloom. He promised to meet her in the cave some time during the coming day.
Freed from the renegade’s protege, the young She-wolf resumed her journey to her home, and at length crept into the gloomy opening from whence they had executed their exit a few hours before. She never dreamed of the thrilling events that had transpired during her absence, and glided along the underground corridor entirely unsuspicious of danger. When near the cave proper, she noted a smoldering fire ahead, and very naturally concluded that Effie and the British criminal had fallen asleep.
On, on, she glided, and at length entered the large apartment wrapped in demi-gloom, despite the efforts of the dying blaze to the contrary. The walls, in which a score of natural niches or holes remained, were shrouded in almost impenetrable gloom, while the deathlike silence boded ill for the hunted beauty. When she crossed the threshold, she turned to the couches; but before her eyes could greet them, a terrific yell broke the stillness, and the niches poured forth the members of the Death League!
For hours Joe Girty and his band had waited for the coming of the hunted ones, nor had they darted from their concealment until they were satisfied that Kenowatha was not with the Girl Avenger. The bloodthirsty band hemmed her in on all sides save one, for with the yell of triumph, perhaps untimely given, she had sprung against the wall, and faced her enemies with a stern defiance that proclaimed to them that she asked no quarter, expected none, and none would give. Startled at her demeanor, the seven—for Wacomet, with his fertile budget of lies, had joined the band—paused before the hunted one, with drawn knives and uplifted tomahawks, eager to drink her blood. They scarce expected resistance on the girl’s part; they thought that their numbers would awe her into submission; but in such thought they found themselves sorely mistaken.
While thus the Death League stood, inwardly admiring the bravery and seeming rashness of the hunted girl, the ornamented rifle shot to her shoulder, a loud report filled the cavern, and the Speckled Snake shrieked and fell dead upon the stones!
Then the Death League were roused to action; then the rifle of the Girl Avenger described rapid circles around her head, for, with a cry of defiance, she had sprung from the wall; and the battle for the mastery, against the greatest odds that pale-face ever fought, raged in that gloomy place.
When Nanette darted forward, she kicked the dying brands into the faces of her foes, through whose numbers her clubbed rifle cut a swath, that closed a moment later, and had to be opened again. At length, with half of her enemies placed hors du combat, she reached the opposite wall, and the remainder darted forward to end the conflict.
No clubbed rifle met them; they brought up suddenly against the limestone rock, and realized that the young She-Wolf was gone!
Turkey-foot, whose cheek the lock of the Girl Avenger’s weapon had dreadfully mangled, was the first to regain his composure. He snatched an ember from the floor and fanned it into a flame by whirling it over his head.