Maddened beyond control, the renegade drew his hatchet, and caught Eudora’s arm as the weapon was raised above his head.
There was the flash of murder in his blood-shot eyes, and he grated his fiendish intention through clenched teeth.
“Girl, they are here!” he cried, as hurrying forms loomed up between him and the gray lodges. “My brother’s captive you become—but a captive reft of life!”
The tomahawk trembled on the eve of a deadly descent, when a dark, limp object left the hands of the foremost of the advancing band, and the renegade was hurled back by the stroke.
“Mine!” cried a plumed person, springing to Eudora, and drawing her to his heart.
It was Mayne Fairfax!
“No words!” cried the hermit, seizing the young man’s arm. “The river! the river! Her cry has roused some braves!”
The young hunter caught the girl in his arms, and turned to the right, to behold a dozen forms sweeping down upon them.
“Save your lives!” cried Eudora, seeing the imminent danger. “They dare not harm me, and your second attempt at rescue will prove successful.”
“Never!” cried Fairfax, throwing himself before Eudora, while he drew a hatchet from his belt. “We can not escape if we would. If captured, instant and disgraceful death await us. We will fight!”