The Wyandot was found dead at the bottom of a forest knoll; but Huldah Armstrong was still missing!
“Blast the Indian!” hissed O’Neill, spurning the corpse with his foot. “He’s past torture, curse ’im! But the girl—we’ll find her yet. We must find her! A hundred guineas to the soldier who first discovers her.”
CHAPTER XII.
ROWING AND RUNNING FOR LIFE.
Spagano bore Huldah Armstrong to the knoll where his strength suddenly deserted him, and he sunk to the earth.
“White girl go,” he said, looking at Huldah, who stood over him undecided how to act. “Indian got to die here. English bullet cut life-string. The red-coat soldier want girl; he come here soon. Look, there burns his soldiers’ fires. Quick, girl! keep from him. Wolf-Cap in the wood; he find you soon.”
“Wolf-Cap,” cried Huldah. “Was you working for him?”
The Indian nodded, unable to speak.
“Where is he?”
A feeble red hand pointed to the south-east, and the Indian fell back with a groan.
The settler’s daughter bent over him, but the red-man’s soul was pursuing the trail to his happy hunting grounds, far, far away from the death-freighted wood.