He could not endure the sight of Nell in Girty's arms.
No one noticed Wingenund.

He stood back a little, half screened by drooping branches.

Once again the chief's dark eyes gleamed, his head turned a trifle aside, and, standing in the statuesque position habitual with him when resting, he listened, as one who hears mysterious sounds.

Suddenly his keen glance was riveted on the ferns above the low cliff.

He had seen their graceful heads quivering.
Then two blinding sheets of flame burst from the ferns.
Spang! Spang! The two rifle reports thundered through the glade.