“Gold Girl sleep long,” the Indian murmured, and a look of fear sat enthroned upon his anxious face. “The Pale Pawnee’s words chased her near the dark river. He wants Gold Girl; he tried to cheat Red Eagle to-night, but she shall never warm his couch. The Indians hate him; they would give Red Eagle his plume, his serape, his sword; but Red Eagle say, ‘not yet.’ But,” and a dark scowl overrode the fearful expression, “let the Pale Pawnee touch Gold Girl and he get this—this.”
Significantly, as if addressing some one, the chief touched the hilt of his knife, and the silvered butt of “Colt,” then clenched his hands and gritted his teeth till they cracked.
The passions that bubbled and hissed in the spectator’s heart cannot be described, and once he drew his revolver and cocked it, and put it up again.
“Curse you, Indian!” he hissed. “It’s diamond cut diamond now; you won’t live ten days, I swear it, by my hopes of eternal life! and the Pawnees shall be kingless before the expiration of that time.”
For several moments longer Red Eagle watched over his beautiful captive, whose insensibility had created some alarm in the breast of his arch-enemy, lying at the base of the wigwam, watching and biding his time for revenge and success.
“Red Eagle go bring Medicine,” suddenly cried the chief, starting to his feet. “Gold Girl sleeps too long. Red Eagle can’t wake her; Medicine can.”
Then the Indian, after casting a long look upon the marble form on the couch, walked from the lodge, and Tom Kyle heard him bounding away toward the Pawnee doctor’s wigwam with the fleetness of the deer.
“Now I could rob him of his Gold Girl, and rob him effectually,” ejaculated the renegade. “One blow could constitute my revenge; but I would have to fly for my life, and leave my captives here. No, I won’t do it. I will bide another time; then, if I can’t wed her, I can strike.”
Again he turned his eyes to the crack, but started from the wigwam with a low ejaculation of surprise.
The figure of a girl stood over Lina Aiken. It was Winnesaw. The renegade recognized her in a moment, and he almost cried aloud when his gaze dropped from her flashing eyes to the slender-bladed knife that glittered in her right hand.