Seized upon by
desperate, clinging, wolf-like assailants, the white men felt
their arms, legs and bodies weighted down and their strength fast
going.
Kenton fell next after Oncle Jazon, and was soon tightly bound
with rawhide thongs. He lay on his back panting and utterly
exhausted, while Beverley still kept up the unequal fight.
Long-Hair sprang in at the last moment to make doubly certain the
securing of his most important captive. He flung his long and
powerful arms around Beverley from behind and made a great effort
to throw him upon the ground. The young man, feeling this fresh
and vigorous clasp, turned himself about to put forth one more
mighty spurt of power. He lifted the stalwart Indian bodily and
dashed him headlong against the buttressed root of a tree half a
rod distant, breaking the smaller bone of his left fore-arm and
well-nigh knocking him senseless.
It was a fine exhibition of manly strength; but there could be
nothing gained by it. A blow on the back of his head the next
instant stretched Beverley face downward and unconscious on the
ground. The savages turned him over and looked satisfied when they
found that he was not dead. They bound him with even greater care
than they had shown in securing the others, while Long-Hair stood
by stolidly looking on, meantime supporting his broken fore-arm in
his hand.
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