“Thus it shall be,” said Tecumseh, and, at his command, the three prisoners were taken from the stakes.
Theirs was a miraculous escape, and Hewitt saw a kind light in Tecumseh’s eyes, as he turned toward the village.
Unknown to the renegade, Tecumseh and his body-guard of tried braves had glided into the forest, for the purpose, if it were possible, to save the captives from the terrible death, so against his feelings.
“We’re free, yet prisoners, boy,” whispered Hewitt to Fairfax, as he walked along. “But so long as that Jim Girty lives our lives hang on threads. I wish he’d let Tecumseh’s little greaser drown, and then Alaska would have killed him. Did the devils tear your linen off when they stripped me?”
“Yes; but I don’t mind it,” said Mayne, with a smile. “Our escape drives my hurts from my mind. I am saved for Eudora yet.”
The hermit sighed audibly, and called Tecumseh to his side.
He pointed to our hero’s wound.
“It shall be dressed,” said the chief, and he threw his blanket over Mayne’s shoulders, for the night-air was chilling.
Alaska witnessed the humane action.
“The young hunter shall go to Alaska’s lodge,” she said, springing to Mayne’s side. “She will cure him, and make him fat for her wolves.”