He would save her at all hazards.
He was followed into the room by three or four of the fiercest of his
party. Pierre sprang with a yell upon the child's bed, throwing her upon
her face with one hand while he buried his hatchet in the pillows where
she had lain. In an instant the little one was hidden under a heap of
bedclothes, and too frightened to make an outcry. Somewhere in the room
the butchers had evidently found another victim in hiding, for their
triumphant yell was followed by a gasping groan, which smote Pierre
to the heart, and filled him with an avenging fury.
A cloud of smoke blown past the window, for a moment darkened the room.
An Indian ran against Pierre and grunted, "Ugh! All gone?"
"All gone!" replied the lad, and he saw the murderers glide forth to
seek their prey. But one remained, delaying to remove a victim's scalp.
The room again became bright, and as the Indian passed Pierre his quick
eye caught a motion in the heap of bedclothes. His eyes gleamed, and he
jerked the coverings aside. Pierre thrust him back violently and angrily,
just as the child sat up with a shrill cry. The savage hesitated,
impressed by Pierre's uncompromising attitude, then turned with a
grunt to seek satisfaction elsewhere.
The child was apparently five or six years old, but a tiny, fairylike
creature.
"Sh-sh-sh!" said Pierre, soothingly, taking it for granted that she
would not understand French. The child comprehended the sign, and
stopped her cries, realizing that the strange and dreadful-looking
being was her protector.
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