“Hark!”
The Indian girl started forward, but paused and turned to the couple again.
“The Pawnees come!” she said. “The clouds gather, but Winnesaw will stand by the pale faces through the storm!”
The next instant they were surrounded.
CHAPTER VIII.
AN UNEXPECTED ACCUSATION.
We left George Long among the devouring quicksands of the Platte, and now, after a brief absence, we return to him.
His weight, though not great, seemed to take him down, and the Indians, seeing this, set up wild yells for assistance. Meanwhile, they tugged with all their strength at the lasso, and the boy thought that they would rend him in twain. Tighter and tighter grew the lariat about his body; his arms seemed to be forced into his sides, and his breath became mere gasps, and brief ones at that.
“Let go! let go!” he shouted to the savages in the agony of mingled pain and despair. “You can’t get me out! my knees are below the sand now; my feet are lumps of ice. Drop the rope, and let me sink!”
But the savages did not obey. On the other hand, they braced themselves anew, and pulled in quick, torturing jerks. The unfortunate boy’s body lay on the water now, and the jerks would submerge his face in the cold fluid, which seemed destined to be his grave.
All at once several Pawnees joined the red twain, and presently five pair of hands griped the sinewy rope.