"You seem to bear me a grudge," said the boomer, eying him sharply.

Tucker could not stand that gaze and his eyes dropped.

"Yes, you're a prisoner," said Ross. "Let's bind him up, Skimmy."

"Take that!"

p.a.w.nee Brown leaped forward and hurled both Ross and Skimmy to the ground. Ere they could rise he had turned upon Tucker. The tall calvary man had his pistol c.o.c.ked, and now he blazed away almost in p.a.w.nee Brown's face, and then both went down, with the scout on top.

The flash of the pistol had scorched the boomer's skin, but the bullet sung over his head, missing him by less than an inch. As he came down upon Tucker he hit the cavalryman a terrific blow in the jaw, breaking that member and knocking out several teeth.

"On him!" yelled Skimmy, and tried to rise. But now p.a.w.nee Brown was again up, and flung Skimmy on top of Ross. In a moment more he was running along the river bank.

He was almost out of sight, when there came two shots, from Ross and Skimmy. Neither hit him, however, and he continued on his way, while the two cavalrymen turned back to pick up Tucker, who lay in a heap, groaning and twisting from intense pain. The tall cavalryman could not, of course, talk, and his wound was so serious that there was nothing to do but to carry him to his horse, support him in the saddle and ride back to the fort for medical a.s.sistance. It was a clean knock-out, and one that Tucker had good cause to remember to the day of his death.

It was some time ere p.a.w.nee Brown struck the trail of Yellow Elk again, but having once spotted it he pursued his course with increased vigor.

The trail led along the river to where there was almost a lake. This had just been reached, when he heard a scream. Instantly he recognized Nellie Winthrop's voice.

"Thank heaven I came as soon as I did," he murmured, and dashed forward to the spot from whence the sound had proceeded.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE LAST OF YELLOW ELK.

When Nellie Winthrop recovered sufficiently to realize what was going on around her, she found herself upon Yellow Elk's back, with her hands tied together at the wrists behind her.

Away went the redskin until the vicinity where the encounter with d.i.c.k had occurred was left far behind.

The brook crossed, the Indian chief set off for the river. Not once did he stop or speak until a pond was gained.

Beyond the pond was a shelter of trees, growing in a circle which was about fifteen feet in diameter. Against the trees the brush had been piled, forming a rude hut.

Taking Nellie inside of this shelter, Yellow Elk deposited her on the ground. Of the cord which bound her hands there were several feet left, and this end he wound around a tree and tied fast.

"Now white girl no run away," he grinned. "Stay here now until Yellow Elk ready to let her go."

To this she made no answer, for what would be the use of talking to such a fierce creature? She looked at his hideously painted face and shivered.

Yellow Elk now went off, to be gone a long while. When he came back he found her so tired she could scarcely stand beside the tree. She had tried to free herself from her bonds but failed, and a tiny stream of blood was running from one of her tender wrists.

"Yellow Elk got horse now," said the redskin. "We ride now--go many miles."

"Where to?" she faltered.

"Never mind where--white girl come on."

Yellow Elk's manner was so fierce she was frightened more than ever. The Indian had stolen a horse and he had also stolen a lot of "fire-water,"

and this drink was beginning to make him ugly. He drew out his hunting knife.

"White girl got to become Yellow Elk's squaw!" he cried, brandishing the knife before her face. "No marry Yellow Elk me cut out her heart wid dis!"

At this Nellie gave a shriek and it was this which was borne to the ears of p.a.w.nee Brown.

"Crying do white girl no good," growled the redskin. "Come with me."

"I will not go another foot," and Nellie began to struggle. The Indian chief upbraided her roundly in his own language and ended by raising his knife over her once more.

"Help!" cried Nellie, and a moment later p.a.w.nee Brown burst into view. A glance showed him the true situation, and without hesitation he fired at Yellow Elk.

His bullet clipped across the redskin's chest. By this time Yellow Elk had his own pistol out, and standing erect he aimed straight for the boomer's heart.

Nellie screamed, and knowing nothing else to do, gave the Indian a vigorous shove in the side, which destroyed the aim and made the bullet fly wide of the mark.

In a second more the two men were at it in a hand-to-hand encounter each trying his best to get at the other with his hunting knife, being too close together to use a pistol. As p.a.w.nee Brown afterward said:

"It was Yellow Elk's life or mine, and I made up my mind that it should not be mine--I considered myself worth a good deal more than that worthless redskin."

A cut and a slash upon each side, and the two broke. Yellow Elk had had enough of the fight, and now ran for it in sudden fear. He did not take to the river sh.o.r.e, but skirted the pond and began to ascend a slight hill, beyond which was another fork of the ravine which has figured so largely in our story.

"Let him go! he may kill you!" called out Nellie, when she saw p.a.w.nee Brown start in pursuit. But the scout paid no attention to her. His blood was up and he was determined to either exterminate Yellow Elk or bring him to terms.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "In a second more the two men were in a hand-to-hand encounter"]

The top of the hill was reached. Yellow Elk paused, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Looking back, he saw p.a.w.nee Brown preparing to fire upon him. A pause, and he attempted to leap down to a ledge below him. His foot caught in the roots of a bush and over he went into a deep hollow headlong. There was a sickening thud, a grunt, and all became quiet.

Yellow Elk had paid the death penalty at last.

When p.a.w.nee Brown managed to climb down to the Indian's side, to make certain the wily redskin was not shamming, he found Yellow Elk stone dead, his neck having been completely broken by his fall. He lay on his back, his right hand still clutching his b.l.o.o.d.y hunting knife.

"Gone now," murmured the great scout. His face softened for an instant.

"Hang it all, why must even a redskin be so all-fired bad? If he had wanted to, Yellow Elk might have made a man of himself. I can't stop to bury him, and yet----Hullo, what are those papers sticking out of his pocket?"

The boomer had caught sight of a large packet which had been concealed in Yellow Elk's bosom. He took up the packet and looked it over. It consisted of half a dozen legal-looking doc.u.ments and twice that number of letters, some addressed to Mortimer Arbuckle and some addressed to Louis Vorlange.

He read over the letters and doc.u.ments with interest. Those of d.i.c.k's father related to the mine in Colorado and were evidently those stolen by Louis Vorlange upon the night of the opening of this tale. The letters belonging to the government spy were epistles addressed to Vorlange from a former friend and partner in various shady transactions.

Of these we will hear more later.

"Yellow Elk must have robbed Vorlange of these," mused the great scout, as he rammed the packet in his pocket. In this he was right. Vorlange had dropped the packet by accident and the Indian had failed to restore it, there having been, as the reader knows, no love lost between the two rascals.

Having placed the dead body among the bushes in a little hollow, p.a.w.nee Brown climbed out of the ravine again and rejoined Nellie, who was growing impatient regarding his welfare. The story of what had happened to Yellow Elk was soon told, the scout softening out the ghastly details. Then, to change the subject, he asked her if she knew her uncle was a prisoner of the soldiers.

"Yes," she replied. "Oh, sir, what will they do with him?"

"I don't believe they can do much, Nellie," he answered. "According to the news from Washington, everything is to be smoothed out, and of course the government will have no case against any of us."