The Indian was now in the midst of the flames and the cry he let out was truly blood-curdling. Excited as he was, Pawnee Brown did not let the intonation of that cry escape him. Understanding the Indian language well, he knew it was more than a cry of terror or pain, it was a call for help! Other Indians must be somewhere in the vicinity.
"You had better run for it!" he said, turning to Nellie. "Mount my horse—the mare the Indian had—and ride down the ravine."
"Run?" she faltered.
"Yes, and hurry. Hark! As I thought! Other Indians are coming!"
The boomer was right. The footsteps sounded from the opposite end of the cave, which had two entrances, similar to each other.
By this time Yellow Elk had rolled out of the fire and was dancing around like a madman, trying to beat out the flames which had communicated to his clothing.
As Nellie ran off, Pawnee Brown drew his pistol, resolved to not only defend himself but cover the girl's retreat as well.
Little did he dream of the fresh perils which awaited Nellie. What those perils were the immediate chapters which follow will relate.
