“Artena with Phil once more,” said the Indian, turning from the fire and throwing himself before the girl, who sat on the stony floor of the little cavern. “Phil no let Jack catch her again, for he’d kill her for spying in his stony lodges for blue-coats.”
“Then, what are you going to do with me?” asked the girl, anxiously, but with great calmness.
“Phil going to leave Modocs,” was the reply. “Blue-coats whip ’em, by ’m by. Jack’s cause lost, and Phil want to save his neck, for big General hang Jack and his braves. So, Phil leave cave when night come again, and Artena go with him to Arrow-Head.”
“But blue-coat law take Phil there.”
“Then Phil go to Feather river. Won’t catch him there!”
“Ah! but they will,” said the girl, with a smile at the Indian’s fear of justice.
“Then Phil get in big ship, an’ go out on ocean. If blue-coats follow him there, then he go to—” he paused and looked up into Artena’s eyes—“to the devil!”
The girl laughed at the expression of triumph that sat enthroned upon the Indian’s face. He had solved the difficult problem of ultimate escape, and was proud thereof.
“Does Phil think that Jack would kill Artena?” asked the girl, quickly returning to seriousness.
The Indian nodded.