Immediately after shooting the pistol from Jack’s hand, she flung her weapons into the deeper gloom, deeming it policy to deny the act, which was ascribed to McKay by the Indians.
What followed her surrender is described in chapter ten, so far as it goes, and now we resume the thrilling narrative.
Cohoon lay on the ground, like one dead; but he was still imbued with life.
The arrow had produced a senseless state, so nearly akin to death as to deceive the Indians, and they glared fiercely upon the youth whose empty bow told that he had sped the fatal arrow.
“Here, boy,” and the speaker, Captain Jack, turned upon the youth. “Here, I want you, I say.”
Several chiefs pushed the youth forward, and he soon found himself lifted from the ground by Mouseh’s strong arms.
“Curse your little heart!” cried the chief. “You’ve punished the man whom I alone had the right to punish. Now to the spirit-land I send you. Yon lava-wall will be reddened by your blood, and may your fate be a warning to future self-installed executioners.”
He raised the youth above his head, as he uttered the last sentence, and darted a quick look at Artena, who, with ready rifle, stood over her lover, her eyes fixed upon the youth, so speedily devoted to death.
A moment of breathless suspense followed, and then the Indian boy left the chief’s grasp.