“Yes; we’ll follow Splitlog until we find Funk, for the outlaw will, of course, stick with the chief; they’ve been old cronies for years, and Funk isn’t the man to trust himself among a British regiment with a pretty woman. O’Neill might want Huldah, you see, and, backed by his men, Funk wouldn’t hev the ghost of a show as his rival.”
The spies now set out on their return to the fort, and Wolf-Cap rapped heavily on the gate with the butt of his gun.
“Don’t be afraid to fling ’er wide, boys,” he cried, in a loud tone. “The devils hev got scared at their own shadow, and the old fort is saved!”
“Saved! saved! the foe has fled!” shouted the guard, as he opened the gate, and then cheer on cheer shook the old structure to its staunch foundation logs.
Fathers dropped their weapons and embraced wives in the transport of joy, and mothers kissed their children a hundred times, and thanked God for deliverance with tearful eyes.
“We’re going now, Mark, and I,” said Wolf-Cap to Levi Armstrong, in the midst of the rejoicings, “and we’re going to fetch your girl back, too.”
“You shall not go alone, Belt. I will—”
“You will stay right where you are!” interrupted the hunter, imperatively. “You are needed here. Some band of dusky fellows may attack the fort during my absence, and these helpless women and children can not spare you. Did I say that Mark and I war going alone? Yes. But we are not. Silver Hand and Golden Cheek will join us somewhar in the woods, and those two fellows kin outwit a thousand Night-Hawks.”
Armstrong reluctantly consented to remain in command of the fort.
“When will you return, Belt?” he asked.