"Ha, ha! Once more the
Rover is free!"
Indeed it was too true. In that fatal moment he had again loosed
himself from the trammels of human feeling, and was once more the
Boy Avenger.
CHAPTER III
Again I must ask my young friends to mount my hippogriff and hie
with me to the almost inaccessible heights of the Rocky Mountains.
There, for years, a band of wild and untamable savages, known as
the "Pigeon Feet," had resisted the blankets and Bibles of
civilization. For years the trails leading to their camp were
marked by the bones of teamsters and broken wagons, and the trees
were decked with the drying scalp locks of women and children. The
boldest of military leaders hesitated to attack them in their
fortresses, and prudently left the scalping knives, rifles, powder,
and shot, provided by a paternal government for their welfare,
lying on the ground a few miles from their encampment, with the
request that they were not to be used until the military had safely
retired. Hitherto, save an occasional incursion into the territory
of the "Knock-knees," a rival tribe, they had limited their
depredations to the vicinity.
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