Others ran forward as she staggered to meet them.
“I’m alone—I’m—lost!” she faltered.
“A white gal in Injun dress,” said another.
And then kind hands were outstretched to her.
“I’m—running—away... Indians!” panted Allie.
“Whar?” asked the lean old scout.
“Over the ridges—miles—twenty miles—more. They had me. I got—away... four—three days ago.”
The group around Allie opened to admit another man.
“Who’s this—who’s this?” called a quick voice, soft and liquid, yet with a quality of steel in it.
Allie had heard that voice. She saw a tall man in long black coat and wide black hat and flowered vest and flowing tie. Her heart contracted.