Oh, Bob, Bob! And he, who was heir of Kingthorpe, had abused the little horse! What would Uncle Isaac say if he knew? And now he could never ride horseback any more! Oh—oh—oh! He must go home and tell Mother. It was dreadful to do it, but he must, he must.,
So cleverly had Feather-in-the-Wind secreted himself at the top of the rise that Bob was about to crawl over him, thinking it was a fallen log that obstructed his path. Stifling an exclamation, he lay still. The Indian did not show any signs of annoyance that his orders had been disobeyed and when he started to wriggle into a position from which he could see the other side of the hill, by a move of the hand he invited the boy to follow.,
“Traitor!” repeated Bob and then pulled his horse’s head around and struck hard with his quirt. In a flash his little horse was flying in the direction of home. It was a desperate chance he was taking, for he had read in the faces of the two men as he turned that they were determined that he should not get back to the dam with his suspicions confirmed. He knew that in running he braved possible death, for he had noticed that both men were armed. The sound of his horse’s hoofs and the rushing wind drowned the noise that would have told him whether he was being pursued or not. He was bending low in the saddle and it was hard to turn and see what had become of Jerry and his companions. But he managed it..
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