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inspecting them. From every score or so he chose one, who stepped

forward from the lin e. When the five had been selected, the Brave

signaled to the rest, who turned and walked off silently into the woods.

Syn and Mipps noted that the five were not so gaily decorated either

with feathers or war -paint as their fellows who were watching. The B rave

then advanced to the bound man, and with his knife severed the cords.

The exhausted victim collapsed for a moment on the hard, beaten earth,

but after rubbing his chafed limbs he stoop up proudly and faced the

Chief.

Having his back to the hillock where Syn and Mipps crouched, they

could not see his face, but there was something in the bearing of his

tall, gaunt frame which made them certain that this was indeed their

missing guide.

“Those five rascals are to be his executioners,” whispered Syn.

“Compared to the others, they are the but youngsters and are no doubt

about to prove their worth with blood-letting. Had the rest not gone, we

should have been hard put to it, to resuce our ‘Mountain Cat’, but this

lot we can tackle. I think the Chief will follow his men and leave the

dirty work to these cadets. If so, we shall be rid of him the easier.”

It was then that they saw the Chief advance to the victim and, with

what seemed a gesture of courtesy, hand him his own tomahawk. This

looked a heavy weapon with a bright steel blade.

“He is allowing him the right to defend himself,” whispered Syn, as

he fingered the butts of his pistols. “And I was right in my guess. I

believe he is about to follow the tribe.”

Indeed, the Chieftain had turned his back upon the prisoner and with

majestic strides walked to the five young warriors, who at the same time

began to execute fantastic steps, working themselves up into a frenzy

for killing. The Chief halted some five paces in front of them, and

raising both arms to

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the dawning sky, appeared to be blessing their prowess. He was then some

twenty paces from the armed prisoner, and still with his back to him.

It was then that they saw the man they took to be “Mountain Cat” take

two steps forward, s winging the tomahawk, and with a mighty effort hurl

it through the air. It struck the Chieftain with terrific force between

the shoulder -blades, the steel of the ax actually severing the long tail

of feathers from his head-dress. The hands, uplifted as they had been in

benediction, clawed the air convulsively, and then down he fell full

length upon his face. Bereft of his weapon, the prisoner folded his arms

and stoically awaited his death at the hands of the five. The sudden

killing of their Chief, whom they took to be dead without examination,

caused them to dance with the greater fury, and with each step they

capered nearer to his slayer.

“Now, Mipps,” said Syn. “You to his right, I to his left. Pistols and

then steel.”

“No quarter, eh?” asked Mipps as they ran.

“None,” replied Syn.

The whirling frenzy of the five did much to help the surprise attack

of the Englishmen, who were on them before they could realize that their

unarmed victim now supported. Then they rushed altogether. Syn brought

down his two flank men by firing his pistols simultaneously and

practically at point -blank range. Mipps fired his right pistol, and hit,

but did not kill, so, quickly changing over by dropping the discharged

weapon and grabbing the other with his right hand from his left, he used

the second charge upon the same attacker killing him then outright, and

hurling his pistol in the face of the next attacker, which checked him

for a second and enabled Mipps to draw his cutlass, a weapon with which

he had made himself acquainted aboard the pirate ship. With it he met

the murderous blow of the tomahawk, and ran his second man through the

stomach with the point. The middle man rushed not at Syn but at the

Indian, and had not Syn’s long blade darted in between his ribs the

Chieftains death must have been avenged. As it was, the rescued Indian

by refusing to leap back in the face of his enemies, received a bad

flesh cut in the leg as his attacker fell dead. From body to body went

Syn passing his sword through the heart of each, and crying out to Mipps

that they must get to cover quickly, lest the noise from this pistols

should bring the tribe back.

Mipps made a strange reply: “Well, I’ll be damned!” he said.

“And why?” demanded Syn, as he cleaned his blade with a handful of

dust.

Mipps scratched his head and pointed to the Indian. “Why, sir, this

‘ere ain’t Mister Pussy at all.”

Syn looked and said, “By gag you’re right! It’s not ‘Mountain Cat.’”

“‘Mountain Cat’ scalped and burned, said the Indian in English. “Me

knew him. Good guide same as me. Speak English both. Me Shuhshuhgah.

Mean Blue Heron. Son of Chief two mile there.” He pointed in the

direction taken by the warriors. “Them bad men may return. We hid a

time. This way. Quick.”

He took a step forward, but fell because of the wound in his right

leg. Syn saw that the muscle of the calf had been severed, so telling

him to put his arms around their shoulders, they dragged him to the

cover of the woods. At the foot of the hillock over which they had

crawled to the attack, Shuhshuhgah pointed to a curtain of thick,

overhanging creeper, behind which was a cunningly hidden cave. Into

this they crept, while Syn, tearing a strip from his shirt arm,

bound up the Indian’s leg.

As it happened, they had only just got to cover in time, for the

noise of the pistols had caused a party of the warrior tribe to return

to see what was amiss. When the fugitives peeped through the creeper

they saw them, three men standing over the body of their Chieftain. They

removed the tomahawk and

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turned him over onto his back. Then they examined the bodies of the five

dead cadets, and seemed bewildered at not finding the body of

Shuhshuhgah. Then, cut from their Chieftain, they trotted off with wild

cries into the wood, following the direction of their fellows.

After waiting for some little time for the scouts to get clear,

during which time Syn and Mipps recharged and re-primed their pistols,

Shuhshuhgah proposed that they should set out for his father’s village,

which no doubt the war-trail party was no attacking.

“But you should not walk, even with our help,” said Syn. “Besides, we

shall find ourselves at a disadvantage coming up behind them with our

way to your village cut off.”

“Under them we shall walk,” explained the Indian. “There is a secret

way into my father’s camp.”

They selected two wigwam poles that had escaped the burning, and with

the long sheath-knife belonging to Mipps, had soon cut and bound some

strong tendrils of the climbing creeper that abounded in the woods.

Placing the Indian upon it, this was easy to carry stretcher -wise.

They followed the Indian trail through the woods, which made it

easier and quicker traveling. When they had gone about a mile, they once

more heard the warcries of the warriors. These cries growing louder and

louder as they advanced, Shuhshuhgah at last pointed to a thick clump of

bushes that fringed the trail.

“Put me down,” he whispered. “We crawl through them. Then pick up

secret trail.”

They set down the stretcher, and upon his stomach the Indian began to

crawl through, followed by Syn and Mipps, dragging the stretcher after