Perhaps we can purchase safety by offering a large reward.
Do you think there is any chance?"
"Doctor Voorhes," the brave little woman answered, "let us not waste the
few moments which yet remain, in idle or ill-founded hopes. Our fate is
inevitable. We must soon appear at the bar of God. Let us make such
preparations as are in our power."
"Oh, I cannot die! I am unfit to die! If I had a short time to
prepare!--oh, death, how awful!"
At this moment, Ensign Ronan was fighting at a little distance with a
tall and portly Indian. The former, mortally wounded, was nearly down
and struggling desperately on one knee. Mrs. Helm, pointing her finger
and directing the attention of the doctor to him, cried:
"Look at that young man; he dies like a soldier!"
"Yes," said the doctor, "but he has no terrors of the future; he is an
unbeliever."
A young savage sprang at Mrs. Helm, whose horse had been shot, and
raised his tomahawk to strike her. She instantly sprang aside, and the
blow intended for her head, fell upon her shoulders. She thereupon
seized him around his neck, and, while exerting all her efforts to get
possession of his scalping knife, was seized by another Indian and
dragged forcibly from his grasp. The latter bore her, struggling and
resisting, toward the lake. Notwithstanding, however, the rapidity with
which she was hurried along, she recognized, as she passed, the form of
the unfortunate doctor stretched lifeless on the prairie.
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