The Squaw Spy was a prisoner, for a savage had suddenly leaped through an opening in the ceiling, and encircled her with his long red arms. She gritted her teeth and struggled, but all to no purpose; the giant Modoc was too much for her, and she submitted, while the Indians clapped their hands in approval of their brother’s deed.
Nor did the captor handle his prize decently. One hand suddenly flew to her throat, and, strangled until her face assumed a darker color than its own natural one, she became as limp as a cloth in his hands, and appeared senseless.
Captain Jack, in the ebullition of his wrath, permitted this, and there was but one in the whole assemblage who tried to resent the indignity.
This person was Cohoon!
He sprung forward with a cry of horror when he saw Artena’s condition; but was confronted by Captain Jack, whose right hand hurled him back.
“There’s some infernal treachery between these two,” he cried, glancing at his braves. “Artena would not strike for Cohoon if he was nothing to her. Say—girl, what—”
He was flung aside by Cohoon’s clenched hand, and, before he could recover, Steamboat Dick was hurled upon him, and Artena lay upon the spy’s arm.
The severing of Cohoon’s bonds was ’Reesa South’s work!
Unable to control the spirit that suddenly swept over her, she had snatched a knife from the belt of a young savage who stood near, and liberated Cohoon before the astonished chiefs and braves could interpose a hand.
And she gained the spy’s side unharmed, and, smiling over her triumph, faced the array of rifles and knives.