CHAPTER XXXV.THE ANSWERED CRY.
The moonlight that fell weirdly upon the Haunted Valley, and lighted up the sad scene enacted there, also cast its silvery radiance upon the mountain hut of the hermit chief. Pacing to and fro in the moonlight, with quick, nervous tread, was Gray Chief, his brow dark, and his lips set stern and hard.
A few moments before White Slayer and his chiefs had left a council which had determined a deadly extermination of every paleface in the Black Hills. Gray Chief had been pleased with the decision of White Slayer, for to him all white men were enemies, and he desired that not only should the miners perish, but also the outlaws.
In that council it had been decided that they should seem to agree to Kansas King’s arrangement for an alliance, and by so doing disarm suspicion, and get him and his men in their power. After that the Sioux warriors were to fall upon them and not a man should escape—no, not one, swore the hermit chief.
Having thus disposed of their would-be allies, it was believed that the Indians could arm themselves with the weapons taken from the outlaws, and then make war upon the two camps of the invaders. The old hermit chuckled gleefully as he thought over his plans, and saw how eagerly the Indians had agreed to them.
Yet, had he known, within the cabin window stood one who had heard every arrangement made, and after learning all she could, arose from her crouching attitudeand stole away. If the hermit had known this, he would not have walked the ledge in the moonlight, gloating over his diabolical invention to rid the Black Hills of every paleface who had invaded their unknown fastnesses.
After parting with Buffalo Bill, Pearl had returned home and learned from Valleolo, the Indian woman, that the chiefs were to assemble at once. Instantly she secreted herself in her room, and from her ambush learned their plans, after which she hurried away through the cavern, descended the hills to the Indian village, and quickly mounted a splendid horse which White Slayer had captured in battle and presented to her.
Like the wind she then rode through the valleys and over the hills, directing her course toward the Ramsey settlement, as she dared not take the lower cañon leading to the fort of the miners. At length she drew near the spot where she had been told the palefaces were encamped, and was just turning into the narrow gulch leading to the stockade fort, when she heard a loud cry for help.
“Help, help! Oh, Heaven, save me!” again rang the cry, and in a woman’s voice.
With the impulsiveness of her nature, Pearl was about to dash at once to the rescue, when there came the sound of coming hoofs. The next instant, riding up the gulch, she beheld two horses bearing a man and a girl, the man holding the girl firmly in her saddle, and at the same time grasping with his other hand the bridle rein of her horse.
They were Kansas King and Ruth Ramsey. Infuriated by her refusal of his love, the outlaw chiefwas bearing the girl by force to his camp, in spite of her heart-rending cries for help.
“Hold!”
The voice was that of a woman, yet it had in it a stern and determined ring that brought the robber chief and his captive to a sudden halt. Before them, seated upon her horse, with her rifle leveled at the broad breast of Kansas King, was Pearl, the Maid of the Hills. At the command Kansas King drew rein.
“Well, girl, what do you want?” he asked.
“That you ride on and leave that girl alone,” firmly replied Pearl.
“Ha! a stern command from such sweet lips; but what if I refuse?”
“I will kill you.”
“Harsher still, my mountain beauty; but your aim may not be true, and——”
“One wave of my hand, Kansas King, and you might find out how true is my aim. Do you think I am a fool, to come this far from my home unprotected?”
Pearl spoke as though there were a hundred warriors at her back. The outlaw chief glanced somewhat nervously around, and, doubtless believing that the rocks and trees did conceal innumerable redskins, he said:
“You hold the winning card, fair Pearl of the Hills. I yield to the command of sweet lips, which yet I may punish for their unkind words with a kiss. Ruth Ramsey, we will meet again. Fair maids, I bid you good evening.”
Then, with a muttered curse, Kansas King drovehis spurs deep into the flanks of his horse, and dashed away up the gulch at a mad speed. Before the rattle of his horse’s hoofs died away, there resounded through the cañon the heavy tramp of many feet. In dismay, Ruth cried:
“Come; oh, come, for the Indians are coming!”
Pearl listened an instant, and then said:
“No, those are not Indians, for I hear the iron ring against the rocks of white men’s shod horses; they are your friends.”
Before more could be said a long line of horsemen filed around a bend in the cañon. Whether friendly or hostile, it was then too late to fly.