A
mad desire to escape arose in his heart the moment that he saw
Long-Hair take the locket. It was as if Alice had cried to him and
bidden him make a dash for liberty.
"Ugh, run!"
The order was accompanied with a push of such violence from Long-
Hair's left elbow that Beverley plunged and fell, for his limbs,
after their long and painful confinement in the raw-hide bonds,
were stiff and almost useless. Long-Hair in no gentle voice bade
him get up. The shock of falling seemed to awaken his dormant
forces; a sudden resolve leaped into his brain. He saw that the
Indians had put aside their bows and guns, most of which were
leaning against the boles of trees here and yonder. What if he
could knock Long-Hair down and run away? This might possibly be
easy, considering the Indian's broken arm. His heart jumped at the
possibility. But the shrewd savage was alert and saw the thought
come into his face.
"You try git 'way, kill dead!" he snarled, lifting his tomahawk
ready for a stroke. "Brains out, damn!"
Beverley glanced down the waiting and eager lines. Swiftly he
speculated, wondering what would be his chance for escape were he
to break through. But he did not take his own condition into
account.
"Ugh, run!"
Again the elbow of Long-Hair's hurt arm pushed him toward the
expectant rows of Indians, who flourished their clubs and uttered
impatient grunts.
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