have passed it by for something better. But just then it tasted "just
boss," to use Dick's own words. A bracing air and hunger are the best
sauces in the world.

An hour had gone by, and all was dark, when Dick started up from a
reverie into which he had fallen. What was that which had reached his
ears from a distance? Was it a cry, or merely the moaning of the rising
wind?

He listened. No, it was not the wind--it was a cry--a girl's voice--the
voice of Nellie Winthrop!

"It is Nellie!" came from his set lips, and his face grew pale. Again
came the cry, but this time more faintly.

From what direction had that cry for help proceeded? In vain the boy
asked himself that question. He was not used to a life in the open and
the rising wind was very deceptive.

"I must find her!" he gasped, leaping from the rocks. "I shan't remain
here while she is in trouble."

He had no horse the men being unable to provide him with one when they
had come together, but for this he did not care. He was resolved to aid
the girl if such a thing were possible.

Away he went over the prairie at a rapid gait, in the direction from
whence he imagined the cry had proceeded. Two hundred yards were covered
and he came to a halt and listened. Not a sound broke the stillness,
although he fancied he heard the hoof-strokes of a horse at a great
distance.

Then he turned in another direction, and then another. It was all to no
purpose. No trace of the girl could be found. He gave a groan.

"It's no use; she's gone and that is all there is to it. Poor girl!"

With a sinking heart he set off to return to the spot from whence he had
come. He advanced a dozen steps, then halted and stared about him.

Suddenly an awful truth burst upon him. He was lost among the brush!

CHAPTER XIX.

NELLIE MEETS VORLANGE.

What had that awful cry heard by Dick meant?

To learn the particulars, we must go back to the time when Nellie
Winthrop started to escape from the cave in the cliff.

The heart of the poor girl almost stopped beating as she saw Pawnee
Brown face about, ready to defend both her and himself from any enemy
who might appear to help Yellow Elk.

Urged by the great scout, she set off on a hasty run for the mouth of
the cave.

Before the entrance was gained she heard the crack of a pistol, but
whether fired by the boomer or an Indian she could not tell.

"Heaven spare that brave man!" was the prayer which came to her almost
bloo