Just then I met Sergeant Custis and Pat Sperry.
“Now is our time to do a kind deed,” I said; “it may be at some risk, but let us set the other prisoners free.”
“Sure, won’t I, thin!” cried Pat.
“I will venture on it,” said the sergeant.
We hurried to the spot, and, in spite of the expostulations of a few old squaws who had remained to watch them, we cut the ropes which bound the unhappy captives to the stakes.
“Now run for your lives!” I exclaimed.
The released prisoners did not require a second bidding, although the old squaws tried to stop them. They were all young and active men, too, and before any of the braves had returned from their futile chase after Piomingo, the fugitives had got to a considerable distance from the camp.
As I knew that our part in the affair must at once become known, I immediately hastened to the chief.
“I have saved you from committing a great crime, which would have made you despised and hated by all white men,” I exclaimed, with a boldness at which I myself was surprised. “If my uncle were here he would speak as I do, and approve of my conduct.”
The chief appeared to be dumbfounded at my audacity; but, although he himself would not have interfered, I do not think he was really sorry that the prisoners had escaped.