They did not cast their eyes behind as they galloped from the river, therefore they did not see the figure which suddenly appeared on the scene, and stood between them and the silver of the starlit waves.
“The Gold Girl is his,” said a woman’s voice, stern with terrible sarcasm and determination. “Winnesaw thought she was his. But who is this Gold Girl? Where did she come from, and where is her father’s lodge? Ha! Kenoagla has returned from the war-path; his band has struck the pale-faces who travel along the big river to the land of yellow stones. He found two girls there—dark and gold. They played for them here to-night. Kenoagla wanted the Gold Girl, but he got the dark one. But he shall have the Gold Girl—at least Red Eagle shall never see her asleep, like the fawn, on his couch. Winnesaw is Red Eagle’s—the Gold Girl is not.”
The slender and beautiful Pawnee girl grew into a very Pythoness as, with clenched hands and gritted teeth, she stood on the spot which the secret enemies had just vacated.
Several moments of silence followed her last word, when she suddenly tore herself from the river-bank, and darted toward the village, hidden by the darkness.
“The Gold Girl—the Gold Girl!” she repeated, in an audible tone, as she bounded over the ground. “Winnesaw is going to see the Gold Girl, whom Red Eagle won to-night.”
Poor, unloved Winnesaw!
She never dreamed what would follow her meeting with Lina Aiken, the “Gold Girl.”
CHAPTER III.
THE VENGEANCE-HUNTER.
The occupants of the Pale Pawnee’s lodge awaited, with fear, anxiety and impatience, his return. They had witnessed his departure with Red Eagle, and they felt that something terrible was about to transpire.
Mr. Denison now knew that the renegade defied the American Government, and he believed that it was Kenoagla’s intention to make short work of him. He had heard of the cruelties of the Pawnees; their treatment of the emigrant trains had reached the ears of the authorities at Washington, and measures were being adopted to chastise the red marauders and protect the trains. But the Government was snail-like in its operations; and while it hesitated, while other measures not so important as the lives of our emigrants retarded the humane step, the Pawnee tomahawk was reeking with blood on the banks of the Platte.