The momentary glare of the yellow flash lit up a scene most awe-inspiring.  The spouting fountain of fire at the base of the great powder-rock was thick with flying missiles; and on high the very cliff itself was tottering and crumbling.  So much I saw; then the Catawba sprang up to haul us afoot by main strength, and to rush us, with an arm for each, headlong through the wood toward the valley head.

But Dick hung back, and when the dull thunder of the falling rocks, the crash of the tumbling cliff and the shrill death yells of the doomed ones came to our ears, he fought loose from the Indian and flung himself down, crying as if his heart would break.

“O God! she’s lost, she’s lost!—­and I have missed the chance to die with her or for her!”

XXX

HOW EPHRAIM YEATES PRAYED FOR HIS ENEMIES

However much or little the Catawba understood of Richard Jennifer’s grief or its cause, the faithful Indian had a thing to do and he did it, loosing his grasp of me to turn and fall upon Dick with pullings and haulings and buffetings, fit to bring a man alive out of a very stiffening rigor of despair.

So, in a hand-space he had him up, and we were pressing on again, in midnight darkness once we had passed beyond the light of our grilling fires.  No word was spoken; under the impatient urging of the Indian there was little breath to spare for speech.  But when Richard’s afterthought had set its fangs in him, he called a halt and would not be denied.

“Go on, you two, if you are set upon it,” he said.  “I must go back.  Bethink you, Jack; what if she be only maimed and not killed outright.  ’Tis too horrible!  I’m going back, I say.”

The Catawba grunted his disgust.

“Captain Jennif’ talk fas’; no run fas’.  What think?  White squaw yonder—­no yonder,” pointing first forward and then back in the direction of the stricken camp.

Richard spun around and gripped the Indian by the shoulders.  “Then she is alive and safe?” he burst out.  “Speak, friend, whilst I leave the breath in you to do it!”

“Ugh!” said the chief, in nowise moved either by Jennifer’s vehemence or by the dog-like shake.  “What for Captain Jennif’ think papoose thinks ’bout the Gray Wolf and poor Injun?  Catch um white squaw firs’; then blow um up Chelakee camp and catch um Captain Jennif’ and Captain Long-knife if can.  Heap do firs’ thing firs’, and las’ thing las’.  Wah!”

It was the longest speech this devoted ally of ours was ever known to make; and having made it he went dumb again save for his urgings of us forward.  But presently both he and I had our hands full with the poor lad.  The swift transition from despair to joy proved too much for Dick; and, besides, the fever was in his blood and he was grievously burned.

So we went stumbling on through the cloud-darkened wood, locked arm in arm like three drunken men, tripping over root snares and bramble nets spread for our feet, and getting well sprinkled by the dripping foliage.  And at the last, when we reached the ravine at the valley’s head, Dick was muttering in the fever delirium and we were well-nigh carrying him a dead weight between us.