A moment later the curtains were drawn aside, and Lina stepped out into the pure night air.
Mabel followed, and as she dropped the curtain she stooped to deprive the guard of his gun.
Her slender hand clutched the barrel of the weapon; but the butt, which she did not see, struck the Apache’s foot as she drew it toward her, and starting from his sleep, fully awake in an instant, he leaped to his feet.
Lina Aiken uttered a low cry of horror and sprung backward as the rifle shot upward, held by hands which, though a woman’s, were nerved with fearful determination.
The Apache took in the situation at a glance, and, without a cry, he strode forward. He saw the clutched rifle, and perhaps he caught the dark eye that fell upon him warningly, for he threw his hand up to break the blow. But the girl was too quick for him; the butt of the weapon struck his head with a dull thud, and he staggered toward the lodge. Once he tried to recover, and had almost succeeded, when the rifle descended again, and then he sunk to the earth like a stricken bullock.
“Now, Lina!”
The girls joined hands in the darkness, and started for the mountains. They had miles to travel before dawn, and the path to the fastnesses were beset with dangers.
An unseen hand seemed to guide them, for they avoided the somber lodges with an ease scarcely ever equaled, and had proceeded to the suburbs of the village when the barking of several dogs, quickly followed by the yells of Indians, attracted their attention, and riveted them to the earth.
“They’ve discovered the guard!” whispered Lina, breathlessly.
“No,” said Mabel, as the yells increased, “they’ve caught a white man. Hark!”