Just under him, between the bluff and the river, lay the Mingo camp, every detail of it plain in the crisp weather.
In the heart of it a figure stood bound to a stake, and a smoky fire burned at its feet....

There was no mistaking that figure.
Boone bit the grass in a passion of fury.

His first impulse was to rush madly into the savages' camp and avenge his friend.

He had half risen to his feet when his reason told him it was folly.

He had no weapon but axe and knife, and would only add another scalp to their triumph.