Cohoon cocked his carbine and flung it to his shoulder, but Kit covered the lock with his brawny hand.
“Boy, don’t you know the red chaps?” he said, looking into the Indian’s face with a curious smile, and Cohoon dropped the gun as he recognized the leader of the party.
The new-comers comprised a detachment of McKay’s Warm Spring Indians, and at last the hunted ones were safe.
The Modocs dared not follow above the lava caves, and it was with great difficulty that the half-breed could prevent his scouts from rushing into the corridor, and punishing Jack while he was so near.
“Now, ’Reesa, they’ll never get you into their clutches again,” said Kit South, turning to his daughter, who walked beside her lover. “You’ve lost one home, but you will gain another. I can soon hew a good one from the trees; but I can’t—”
“No, father, you can’t replace mother.”
Kit was silent, and with gritted teeth he commanded the party to halt, and confronted Rafe Todd.
The deserter was not even severely wounded. Cohoon’s bullet had failed to penetrate a vital spot, and he was walking beside the Indian.
“We’re on safe ground now,” said the scout to McKay, “and there’s one man in this party who is not going into camp.”
Then every eye fell upon the painted traitor.