“But you blushed while you thought,” said the outlaw, quickly; “and blushes, like figures, Huldah, do not lie. Some young buck-skin-clad fellow has made your heart beat fast behind the walls of the doomed fort. Tell me his name.”
“Why would you know?”
“I would kill him, if he escaped the massacre. Huldah, I will endure no rivals for your hand. Remember this. But you have skipped a lover.”
The fair girl, whose cheeks had grown pale beneath the vengeful words, looked surprised.
“Yes, you possess a third lover, Huldah. Can you not name him?”
“I can not. Your words are fraught with mystery,” she replied.
“Colonel O’Neill is your lover. He tried to have me shot, that he might possess you. What do you think of your red-coated Adonis? He’s the handsomest of all your lovers—isn’t he, Huldah?”
The outlaw laughed at his sarcastic question, and turned to talk to one of his men, whose face appeared at the opening.
A short conversation in a low whisper passed between the Night-Hawks, when the face disappeared, and Funk turned to his captive again.
“We won’t get off till near sundown,” he said. “That liveried dog has refused to loan us his boats, and Splitlog has been compelled to send to the mouth of the Catauga for several of his own. By heavens! Huldah, I want to meet that man away from his men. I’d promote Major Gosnoke to the colonelcy with a bullet. There’s something devilish afoot. I feel it. This night will witness treacherous deeds. O’Neill will not give you up tamely—neither will I!”