and one could almost fancy his reproving grief when he looked around in quest of the cruel slayer. Seeing no one, he walked slowly back to the senseless form, and lowering his nose began snuffing at it, as if he did not quite understand it all.
Without a word, Alden Payne slipped off his horse and stooped over the body. “Dick” did not notice him, but kept up his snuffing as if begging an answer. Alden reached down and grasping the shoulder, carefully turned over the still warm body. An Indian arrow driven with infernal force and accuracy, had done its work. The point had passed clean through, piercing the heart in its passage. Dick Lightfoot had died instantly.
“Poor fellow!” murmured Alden; “a lightning stroke could not have brought you down more suddenly. In the few minutes we were together I learned to like you, and this is the end.”
In the shock of the sorrowful occurrence Alden Payne could not forget the perilous situation of himself and companion. It was foolhardy to stay where they were, for beyond doubt they were exposed to the same danger. Alden’s delay was caused by the question
