nd it must be
done."
Just then, from behind the shelter of a wood on one side of the
mountains, a mounted warrior dashed out. I saw at once that it was
Piomingo. His eyes were fixed on one point; it was the spot where the
young squaw was bound. Quick as lightning he cut the cords which bound
her, and placing her before him on the saddle, galloped off, and was out
of reach before those at hand could hinder him. Fortunately, none of
Winnemak's people had firearms, and their bows and arrows having been
laid aside, they hurried to their wigwams to obtain them. But ere bow
could be drawn the rescued squaw and her deliverer were far beyond their
reach. In vain were showers of arrows sent after them; the fugitives
heeded them not. Many of the braves ran for their horses; but I well
knew that my gallant steed, even with two people on his back, could keep
ahead of them.
The whole camp was soon in confusion and astonishment at the audacity of
the act. Some of the braves may have suspected that I had had a hand in
the business, for I observed that they cast angry glances at me as they
passed. So great was their excitement, too, that for the moment they
had forgotten the other prisoners.
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 dumfounded at my audacity; but, although he
himself would not have interfered, I do not think he was really sorry
that th
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