“Yes,” answered Kate.
“An’ where might the yaller dog be?”
“Yonder, nailed to—”
Kate Blount interrupted herself with a blank stare, and an exclamation.
“Why, he’s gone!”
Yes, the white rocks to which the renegade had been nailed exhibited all their wonted ghostliness, and the Yellow Bloodhound was nowhere to be seen!
“How did he git away ef he war nailed?” cried Doc Bell springing to his feet. “The spirits don’t ginerally help such fellars. But he’s gone—gone to come back to us ag’in some day. Yes, that devil is far from dead.”
“No, he is not, Doc,” said Bob, who had regained his senses, and was wiping the blood drawn by the tomahawk from his forehead. “I cut all around his heart with my knife. Coleola’s ball entered his body, and her red devils drove a ramrod through his hands. He can’t get over all that.”
“Boy, did Coleola’s bullet take ’im atween the eyes?” asked the giant hunter, anxiously.
“No.”