Dave shook his head. "No, I'm pretty certain they carried 'em off as prisoners."
There was an awkward pause and something like a lump arose in Dave's throat. If Henry was a prisoner and the Indians were on the war-path this could mean but one thing for the youth—burning at the stake or some similar torture. The silence was broken by Uriah Risley.
"It's a burning shame, lad, an outrage. But what can we do now?"
"I don't know what to do excepting to go home and give the alarm. It won't do any good to stay here. The Indians may fall on us half a hundred strong—just as they most likely fell on Henry and your wife."
"But—but I cannot desert my poor wife, my beloved Caddy. She is all the world to me. I'd rather die myself than see a hair of her head injured."
"Then you had better continue the hunt, while I go home. If you should fall in with 'em tell Henry how matters stand. But, Mr. Risley, let me caution you not to be rash, if you catch sight of Mrs. Risley in the hands of the redskins. If you give them the chance they'll burn you at the stake—and it won't help her a bit either."
"I'll try to be cautious, lad. I hate to have you
