Suddenly his hearing, trained to a most acute sensibility, caught a
faint sound, almost inaudible. It came from without on the other
side of the lodge. There it was again, a slight tearing sound, such
as is caused by a knife when it cuts through soft material.
Some one was slitting the wall of the lodge.
The hunter rolled noiselessly over and over until he lay against the
skins. In the dim grayness he saw a bright blade moving carefully
upward through the deer-hide. Then a long knife was pushed into the
opening; a small, brown hand grasped the hilt. Another little hand
followed and felt of the wall and floor, reaching out with groping
fingers.
The, hunter rolled again so that his back was against the wall and
his wrists in front of the opening. He felt the little hand on his
arm; then it slipped down to his wrists. The contact of cold steel
set a tremor of joy through his heart. The pressure of his bonds
relaxed, ceased; his arms were free. He turned to find the
long-bladed knife on the ground. The little hands were gone.
In a tinkling he rose unbound, armed, desperate. In another second
an Indian warrior lay upon the ground in his death-throes, while a
fleeing form vanished in the gray morning mist.
Chapter VII.
Joe felt the heavy lethargy rise from him like the removal of a
blanket; his eyes became clear, and he saw the trees and the forest
gloom; slowly he realized his actual position.
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