The cry came from the rocks on her right. Turning swiftly, she saw an evil-looking man scowling down upon her from a small opening under one of the rocky walls of the cul de sac. The man was Louis Vorlange.
Nellie did not know the fellow; indeed she had never heard of him. But there was that in the spy's manner which was not at all reassuring as he leaped down to where she stood.
"I say, how did you come here?" went on Vorlange.
"I—I just escaped from an Indian who carried me off from Arkansas City," answered Nellie.
"An Indian! Who was it, do you know?"
"A fellow named Yellow Elk."
Vorlange uttered a low whistle.
"Where is he now?" he questioned.
"I left him back in yonder hills, in a cave."
Again the spy uttered a whistle, but whether of surprise or dismay Nellie could not tell.
"Were you alone with Yellow Elk?"
"I was for a time. But a white man came to my aid and the two had a fight."
"Who was the white man?"
Before she gave the matter a second thought, Nellie answered:
"Mr. Pawnee Brown."
