“Once across this stream, an’ we’re safe,” said South, “for we kin reach the surface of these beds, and make a bee-line for the camp.”
“Yes,” said Cohoon; “but water too swift here. Go up higher.”
They ascended the stream some distance, and then plunged into the Stygian water.
The scout was foremost with his child, while Cohoon swam behind.
Suddenly a floating object struck the Indian, and he felt a pair of arms encircle his thighs.
He tried to disengage the unseen ‘thing,’ which seemed a corpse, but the longer he toiled the more terrible grew the embrace.
Cohoon felt that the object was dragging him down, and he heard Kit loosen the stones on the opposite bank as he climbed up with his daughter.
The Indian struggled with all his strength to avert the doom that threatened him, and when on the eve of despair the embrace suddenly relaxed, and but one hand retained its hold.
Then the Warm Springer started forward again, dragging the demon with him. He had lost his knife during his struggle in the water, and could not cut the dead man loose.
Once, while fighting for life in the middle of the stream, he thought he had discovered that his cold antagonist was a white man; but then, who could the white man be?