Captain Jack uttered an exclamation of rage, and wheeled toward the spot from whence the shot seemed to come.
A fresh weapon glittered in his right hand—a weapon snatched from the grip of Scar-faced Charley.
His flashing eyes demanded to know who fired the shot; but he spoke not, and the warriors gave way as he strode forward.
But, suddenly, a figure leaped from the narrow corridor into which the chief looked for a solution of the mystery, and halted scarce a foot from the muzzle of his pistol.
The chiefs recognized the new-comer before the great Modoc, and when her name rung from every lip, he started back, and gazed from a safer distance into her face.
“Artena!” he cried, “what does all this mean? Did not the iron shell blow you to pieces? Chiefs, surely you do not see Artena?”
“Ah, Mouseh, Artena is not with the Manitou,” said the Squaw Spy, stepping forward quickly, and touching the Modoc’s arm. “The great shell blew her from the cave; but she has returned to tell Mouseh about the blue-coats.”
All at once Jack started forward again, and took the girl’s hand.
He never doubted her fidelity to him, and now that Rafe Todd was dead he could rule his chiefs concerning her retention as a spy, for his cause.
“But why did Artena shoot Mouseh’s pistol from his hand when he was about to punish the liar?” queried the Modoc. “Let Artena answer that.”