ll of bitter
hatred Yellow Elk advanced and applied the torch to the dry brush which
encircled his feet.

In vain the great scout endeavored to wrench himself free from the
fire-stake. Yellow Elk and his followers had done their work well and he
was held as in a vise.

"Pawnee Brown shall burn slowly," said the Indian chief, hoping to make
the scout show the white feather. "Yellow Elk will watch that the fire
does not mount to his body too quickly."

"If you want to kill me why don't you put a bullet through my heart and
have done with it," said the boomer as coolly as he could. The fire was
now burning around his feet and ankles and the pain was increasing with
every second of time.

"White man shall learn what it is to suffer," said Spotted Nose. "He
killed my friend, the Little Mule."

"Your friend tried to take my life."

"Bah! say no more but burn! burn!" hissed Yellow Elk.

And with a stick he shoved the flaming brush closer in around the
scout's legs.

It was a fearful moment--a moment in which Pawnee Brown's life hung by a
single thread. The flames were leaping up all around him. He closed his
eyes and half murmured a prayer for divine aid.

Crack! bang! crack! Two pistol shots and the report of a rifle echoed
throughout the cave, and as Pawnee Brown opened his eyes in astonishment
Spotted Nose threw up his arms and fell forward in the flames at his
feet, dead! The Indian who had been with Spotted Nose also went down,
mortally wounded, while Yellow Elk was hit in the left arm.

"Down with the reds!" came in the ringing voice of Jack Rasco, and he
appeared from out of a cloud of smoke, closely followed by Dan Gilbert
and Dick. "Pawnee! Am I in time? I hope ter Heaven I am!"

"Jack!" cried the great scout. A slash of Rasco's hunting knife and he
was free. "Good for you!" and then Pawnee Brown had his hands full for
several minutes beating out the flames which had ignited his boot soles
and the bottoms of his trousers.

"We plugged the three of 'em," said Gilbert. "I knocked thet one," and
he pointed to the Indian who was breathing his last.

"I hit the Indian with the yellow plume," put in Dick, and he could not
help but shudder.

"That was Yellow Elk," said Rasco. "But whar is he now?"

All the white men turned quickly, looking up and down the cave. It was
useless. Yellow Elk had disappeared.

"He must not escape!" cried Pawnee Brown. "I have an account to settle
with him for starting that fi