He turned with feverish eagerness to the lodge. Wachita had
disappeared--probably to join the other women. It was well; she would
not suspect him.
The tree to which the doomed man was bound was, by custom, selected
nearest the chief's lodge, within its sacred enclosure, with no other
protection than that offered by its reserved seclusion and the outer
semicircle of warriors' tents before it. To escape, the captive would
therefore have to pass beside the chief's lodge to the rear and descend
the hill toward the shore. Elijah would show him the way, and make it
appear as if he had escaped unaided. As he glided into the shadow of
a group of pines, he could dimly discern the outline of the destined
victim, secured against one of the larger trees in a sitting posture,
with his head fallen forward on his breast as if in sleep. But at the
same moment another figure glided out from the shadow and approached the
fatal tree. It was Wachita!
He stopped in amazement. But in another instant a flash of intelligence
made it clear. He remembered her vague uneasiness and solicitude at his
agitation, her sudden disappearance; she had fathomed his perplexity,
as she had once before. Of her own accord she was going to release the
prisoner! The knife to cut his cords glittered in her hand. Brave and
faithful animal!
He held his breath as he drew nearer. But, to his horror, the knife
suddenly flashed in the air and darted down, again and again, upon
the body of the helpless man.
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