"I killed him. When you two were fighting fire I got my chance to steal down to the Dale cabin. Then it was easy to make the Granville cabin. The old fool thought I was one of you when he heard my voice, and drew the bar. I was inside and had his life before he knew he had made a mistake. I waited. Then you crawled along. Curse that damned young devil who yells like a panther! He was the one I wanted. I'd give a thousand of such as you to get his hair! But he got by the door without my hearing him. A little more, and you'd have passed, too." There was much crashing and running through the bushes behind us, and occasionally I could make out dark shapes hurrying by. These were the warriors who had fired the cabins, and now they were in haste to leave the spot. Owing to their fear of Cousin they dared not leave the valley except as they did so under cover. We made good time through the woods, however, although more than once my gasping cry warned Ward, or one of the savages at my side, that I was being choked to death. As a premature demise was not on their program the cord was quickly loosened each time, and the man ahead warned to be more careful. These partial strangulations resulted from the fellow's anxiety to escape from the neighborhood of the double-barrel rifle. On reaching the Bluestone we halted while the savages collected their horses. From the few words exchanged I estimated that half the band was mounted. Without building a fire or eating we started up the Bluestone. Neither Black Hoof nor the Dales were with our party when we halted at daybreak. We paused only long enough to bolt some half-cooked deer-meat. I asked for the trader and his daughter, and Ward laughed and shook before my face the scalps he had taken in the Granville cabin. Two of them were pitiably small. "You scalp other men's kills," I observed. "You'll not say that when I scalp you." "What does Dale now think of his Indian friends?" This seemed to amuse him tremendously, and he laughed like a white man. "He doesn't seem to know what has happened," he finally replied with much relish. "He stares at us, then at the girl, as if trying to understand." "What about the girl?" "That's enough. Keep still," he warned, and made a threatening gesture with his ax. My hands, which had been released long enough for me to eat, were trussed up again. My rough usage and the travel had worn on me, but I had no desire to rest so long as Patricia Dale was to be found. My captors also had a definite plan--one that demanded haste. By daylight I perceived by the signs that the greater number of the band had gone ahead, probably under the lead of Black Hoof.