“We work for ’Reesa now, Cohoon,” suddenly cried Kit South, as they shot around a ragged lava rock whose glistening side hid them from the Indians. “It is night again, for I got a peek at a star down there. They won’t miss us for an hour, at least.”
“But where is the girl?”
“Where that infernal Bob put her, no doubt.”
“Does Kit know where the cave is?”
“Not exactly, but I know a place where he’d be likely to take her. Come, we climb over these rocks and get into the way that leads to it. You can’t fool Kit South hyarabouts; he’s hunted too many bears in these beds.”
Then they extinguished one of the torches and clambered over the broken rocks that partly blocked the mouth of a corridor to find themselves on a trail that might lead to the jaws of death.
“They won’t catch the captain,” whispered Kit, proudly as they hurried along. “He kin get along in that river without a boat, as well as he could with one. Cohoon, we owe Don much to-night.”
The Warm Spring Indian nodded.
“Cohoon slept against his will; but he heard the shot, and he knows now that Donald shot Bob as be squatted over him with the hatchet.”
“Do you think he hurt the devil much?”