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.

The dog had scented the meat at first, and, prompted by hunger, it approached the scout, lapped its jaws gleefully. David tossed the dog a portion of the meat, which was greedily swallowed. Throwing it the remainder, the scout prepared for action. Placing his keen knife between his teeth, he sprung upon the beast, with a grasp which would have strangled a giant. Throwing it upon its back, he almost severed the head from the body, and raising his rifle as soon as the struggle ceased, pursued his way.

No disturbance had resulted, and David continued his way, slowly but surely. In a short time he reached the rear of the hut he sought. No sound greeted his ears, and, moving nearer, he applied his eye to a crevice where the mud had fallen from the logs. By a small fire which was burning, the interior was quite distinctly illuminated. Four Indians were in the apartment, three of whom were stretched upon the ground, while the fourth sat dozing upon one of the rude blocks. David noticed the partition of skins.

“That says Emily,” he mused, drawing back to breathe. “I’ll go and see what I can make out.”

Acting upon the thought, he moved stealthily to the end occupied by the maiden. He readily found an aperture, but all was dark within, and he could make nothing out. For once his eagerness got the better of discretion, and applying his mouth to the crevice, he softly whispered:

“Emily!”

There was no response, and he repeated the summons a trifle more distinctly. As fortune willed, Emily was soundly sleeping, while Sall Simms was wide awake. The latter heard the voice of the scout, and, approaching the place softly whispered:

“What and who is it?”

“Davy Barring—come to get ye away from this.”

Sally started when she heard the name of the bold scout, spoken by his own voice.

“Hist!” she softly whispered.

“Someone is coming,” she added; “be silent for a moment.”

Listening to be sure that David had taken the bait, she glided from the apartment. In another instant she had communicated all she knew to the savage guard still awake. He uttered a grunt of satisfaction, and proceeded to arouse his companions, while Sally hastened back to the scout.

“David!” came gently to his expectant ears. He raised himself, and inquired if all was right. “Yis, the Injin guard is gone,” she whispered, in a tone much louder than previously used.

“Hush, not too loud,” cautioned the scout, fearing she might betray the presence of a stranger.

“Wal, I’ll be careful,” she whispered, in a slightly-modulated key. “But whar’s yer comrades? Ye didn’t come alone?”

“That don’t sound much like Emily,” the scout thought to himself. “Maybe she’s dropped that polite way she used to have o’ speakin’. Though I did like to hear such words from her purty lips.”

“I’m alone here,” he whispered; “though Charles Markley—”

Before David could proceed further he became aware that his presence was discovered. The four Indians had stolen cautiously from the hut, and were silently approaching, when one of their number stepped upon a round stick, which came near throwing him to the ground. Seeing their movements were discovered the savages gave a yell, and rushed forward.

Quick as thought the scout’s rifle flew to his shoulder, while its tongue of flame arrested one savage midway.

But he was not to escape this time. The Indian with the hatchet hurled it furiously, and although the blade passed harmlessly, the handle struck just above David’s ear, knocking him senseless to the earth. At the same moment the others fired their rifles, but the bullets passed harmlessly by. His fall had saved him.

Great, indeed, was their rejoicing when they found how mighty was the foe that had been conquered. Their savage exultation seemed to know no bounds. Many were anxious that he might at once be put to torture, but the brave who held command during the absence of Ashbey ordered the prisoner to be put in confinement, to await the return of his superior. As no one dared dispute his authority, the prisoner was led away toward the place where Alfred was already confined.

They were within some fifty yards of the prison, when a loud yell, quickly followed by the report of a musket, broke upon the group. The ringing crack of a rifle followed a moment after, while a more fearful yell told that some victim had fallen.

Too well the scout knew the meaning of all this. Charles had, in some manner, been discovered. The warriors of the party, leaving a force to guard the prisoner, started in the direction of the reports. Just as they reached the prison-door, a more distant rifle-shot, followed by another yell of pain, told that the fugitive was still free.

But David could see no more.

Could it be that Charles had succeeded in freeing his brother? The thought was full of pleasure, but it seemed hardly probable. He called aloud:

“Alf, my boy!”

“Here!” was the answer. “And you, my brave friend, here too?”

“Yis, my boy,” the hunter responded, in as cheerful tones as he could assume; “though it’s mighty against my will, that’s true as ye live. But I’ve bin in worse places nor this, an’ even in this very hole once afore. We’ll make our way out, no kind o’ danger about that. Charley would have let you loose afore this, only the red rascals got wind o’ what he’s at.”

David had by this time found the whereabouts of the young man, and bending closer, he whispered in his ear:

“We’re not so destitute as you may suppose. I’ve two pistols under my coat which the dogs overlooked, and they may come in good play if either of us gets a hand loose.”

The knowledge that they had weapons seemed instantly to raise the drooping spirits of Alfred.