"This must be the entrance to the covered way," I remarked, and
placing my head in the crevice, I called: "Oh, Mr. Arnold, we are
here--your friends from Fort Whipple!"
"Thank Heaven!" in a man's tones, came clearly through the entrance,
accompanied by a sudden outburst of sobs in girlish voices.
"We'll be there directly," spoke another man's voice--that of a
stranger. "We've heard your horses' hoofs jarring the ground for some
time, but we thought it safest to lay low until we were sure it wasn't
redskins."
Then followed the sound of steps, accompanied by voices, sounding at
the entrance, as a voice spoken in a long tube appears to be uttered
at the listener's end. Some time elapsed before those who seemed so
near appeared; but at last there emerged from the passage Mr. Arnold,
two strange men, and three girls--but no Brenda.
"Where is Brenda, Mr. Arnold?" I asked.
"Heaven only knows, lieutenant. She gave herself up to the Apaches."
"Gave herself up to the Apaches! What do you mean?"
"That's precisely what she did, lieutenant," said one of the
strangers, adding: "My name is Bartlett, from Hassayampa, and this is
Mr.
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