“Then Florence did not commit a willful wrong in marrying the chief. But why did you not make your existence known to her before she fled?”
In reply to this, the ranger related the story of his trials and sufferings, of which the reader is already aware.
He stated that when he went over the falls in the canoe, the little craft alighted upon its end in such a way as not to injure him severely; and that, by some chance, it was thrown backward _under_ the falls instead of outward. Here he discovered the cavern that he had made his home.
“And where is Florence now?” asked Silvia.
“I left her in the forest near the Indian encampment. She begged me to fly, to escape a band of Indians we saw approaching. I did so, but since you have company, and it is some time until night, I will go in search of her.”
“Oh, do, Rodger, and bring her here!” cried Silvia.
The ranger turned to leave the room, saying:
“I will go and try, but I fear I can never induce her to leave the Indians.”
It is a night of fearful storm, but one that has been full of events to the captives. Taken to the Indian village they were doomed to the stake; but the counterfeit Black Bear coming in with Florence, had learned all--the assault on the cave, the death of Allacotah, which freed the unhappy wife from a bond that must have broken her heart--and by co-operating with Rainbolt, whom Florence brought to the guidance of the released captives, the brave Solomon Strange had, under cover of the storm, set the whole party free; and we now behold them gathered in the Ranger’s Cave, happy enough over their release. But the happiest of all was the ranger himself, who, with his restored wife in his arms, was repaid for his long, long days of suffering.
Only Solomon Strange was abroad on that night. Furiously the wind drove in his face as he moved westward through the woods, guided by the lightning’s glare. But, what cared the mysterious Solomon Strange for the bellowing thunder, the rumbling wind, the sullen roar of the trees, the crashing of fallen timber, the vivid lightning and the rain? Ah, _what_ cared he?
On through the forest aisles he went. On, on.
Presently he entered a small opening in the woods and stopped.
That spot seemed to recall a dark deed to his mind, for it was there that he had beaten down the renegade, Blufe Brandon; and but a little ways off he could hear the waters rushing wildly through the black gorge into which he had thrown the body.