It was a hard task to witness the preparations for torturing the poor fellow, but it could not be helped, and they were forced to be spectators of what seemed, to Charles especially, so cruel. “Good, good!” vociferated the scout, ardently, yet in a careful manner; “but Alf did that capitally. He went in like a regular Injin-fighter, born and bred to it.” The scout chuckled as he witnessed the sight. “I knew they didn’t catch the boy nappin’,” was the satisfied exclamation which followed. “Two o’ the scamps got fixed, an’ more of ’em got to follow. I’ve been in Wild Bill’s pen once; but he didn’t keep me, nor he can’t keep Alf.” As nothing more could now be accomplished, the party drew cautiously away, to await the coming of night. David had counted sixteen warriors, and he judged, rightly enough, that there were others keeping a strict watch over the other prisoner—the fair Emily Hinton. In all, probably twenty warriors. It seemed a fearful odds—twenty against two; but the scout was not a man to hesitate. The thought of abandoning a friend or comrade never entered his noble heart. CHAPTER X. THE INVINCIBLE VINCIBLE. To Charles was given the task of liberating Alfred. The scout having instructed him thoroughly in all points, the utmost assurance was felt that the mission would be successful. For himself David reserved the more difficult task of discovering the whereabouts of Emily. Each enterprise was fraught with danger, yet there was no drawback to such brave hearts. He had perceived, before setting out, that the easiest mode of reaching the hut which he believed held the maiden, would be by striking several of the nearest wigwams. As he fancied little danger from approaching so closely, he glided into the deep shade of one, and stole noiselessly along. Human ears could scarce have detected the presence of the man, but brute instinct was to achieve what human faculties could not accomplish. The project of the scout came very near being summarily defeated, in an unforeseen manner. He had passed the first hut, and reached the rear of the second, when a lean, half-starved Indian dog came yelping and bounding furiously from some unknown covert. He paused when he came near the scout, and stopped his barking. David recoiled and sunk close to the earth, awaiting with anxiety the result. He soon became satisfied that the short outcry had created no alarm. The brute now stood with his sharp nose pointing toward the scout, sniffing the air in a most unmistakable manner. “I’ve got it now,” he thought, taking from his wallet a piece of freshly-roasted meat; “the dog is about starved to death, and two to one I’ll make a compromise with the brute. If this won’t do it, something else will,” and he sought the handle of his knife.