THE COMING OF DONALD.
"Oh! the brazen face of that old rascal, Braddon!" muttered Billie.
"_Please_ let me give him my compliments in his shoulder, Adrian! I'm
looking along the barrel of my trusty gun right now, and have got the
nicest bead on him you ever saw. Not that I'm savage by nature, or like
to inflict pain; but he deserves it, sure he does, Adrian. Can I pull
the trigger, did you say?"
His voice was really pleading, showing that Billie had been considerably
worked up by the duplicity of the pretended showman; for, as he said,
usually the stout chum was averse to scenes of violence, and avoided
them whenever he could, without feeling that he was bringing disgrace on
his head in so doing.
"No, no, don't think of it--yet!" said the other, hastily, but
positively. "We haven't got to the end of our rope. If they do attack
us, remember that under no conditions are you to injure a hair on the
head of a Zuni brave. Give the white men all the wounds, because it is
their doing."
"But what can we do to stave it off any longer, Adrian?" begged the fat
chum.
"I hardly know," replied Adrian, himself at a loss to grasp any idea
that promised hope; "if only Donald would hurry along everything might
be well. You don't see anything of him, do you, Billie?"
"Not a thing, Adrian; and the way you say that makes me think of the old
fairy story of Bluebeard, where the wife who is to go down to the old
fellow, because she has seen the room where the heads of all his other
wives are hanging, asks her sister to look, and see if the brothers are
not coming on their horses to save her. Don't you remember she cries
again and again: 'Sister Ann, sister Ann, look and see if there isn't a
cloud of dust along the road; don't you see anybody coming this way?'
But Adrian, I don't glimpse even a cloud of dust. Donald sure is
aholding back the worst ever; looks like he might get here too late,
after all."
Once Billie got started talking it was difficult to stop him. Besides,
Adrian did not make any attempt to do so, because every second they
could delay matters counted for just so much in their favor.
Of course the medicine man was waiting impatiently to hear what the
result of his last demand would be. When he saw the two lads talking he
supposed they must be conferring, in order to reach a definite
conclusion. And after all, what did a minute, or several of them for
that matter, count; there was plenty of time still, before the exercises
of the afternoon would be starting.
So he waited, calm and reserved, yet undoubtedly anxious; for the
recovery of the precious belt meant much to him; even some shreds of his
sacred office might be associated with the return of the belt, for
unless this were done how could he convince his people that nothing was
impossible with him?
No matter what happened, Adrian was grimly determined that neither of
the white men must be allowed to enter that tent. He would, if pushed to
the wall, advise that it be taken down, and everything connected with it
appropriated by the Indians. Surely that ought to assure the medicine
man that they had nothing concealed under the old canvas that had been
donated to the trip by their friend at the mine.
The question was, how could he continue the delay any longer? Already he
believed that Braddon was beginning to grow suspicious, for several
times the showman cast quick glances toward the village beyond the
rocks, as though half anticipating seeing some one coming on the run,
perhaps the third paleface boy.
So Adrian once more started to speak, being as slow and deliberate as
possible.
"Pick-ne-quan-to would be fair with his white brothers," he said. "He
has looked in their tent, and did not find the Sacred Belt. If it were
there it could not escape the eye of Manitou's messenger. Then why
should a white man be able to find it? These white men do not like us.
They have tried to drive us away from the village of our friends, the
Zunis. The chief knows why this should be so. Send then a warrior to the
village to fetch your chief here, Pick-ne-quan-to, that he may be the
one to judge what shall be done. If he says that a paleface can do what
a Zuni medicine man is unable to accomplish, then we will agree to
letting that man enter our tent. But not unless the chief says it. I
have spoken."
Apparently the medicine man hardly knew what to say to this. Adrian had
managed to get several clever little hints in his speech that appeared
to satisfy the other he meant to be honest with the Zunis. And his
proposal that they send for the head man of the tribe, was not that
right?
Braddon immediately saw that there was a chance of a cog slipping in his
cleverly arranged scheme unless he could manage in some way to inflame
the other; so as to cause him to order his men to seize upon the two
boys. He had found a convenient rock behind which he could drop, in case
he had cause to believe the others meant to open fire on him; and this
gave him new assurance.
"Don't listen to him, Pick-ne-quan-to!" he called out, lustily; "he's
got a glib tongue for a boy, and means to deceive you. While we are
waiting for the chief to come they will be doing something to make away
with that belt. I tell you the chances are it must be there inside that
tent; and if they let my friend assist you in the hunt, he is sure to
find it. Don't you see that they are afraid to say yes to that,
Pick-ne-quan-to? And if they were innocent would it matter at all to
them who made the search? There is only one thing to be done, then; you
should order your braves to make them prisoners. Then whatever you say,
it shall be done."
Adrian himself was afraid that the old medicine man might be tempted to
give the word that would send those three sinewy warriors flying across
the ground that separated them from the two white boys. He hardly knew
what they should do under such distressing circumstances, except that he
hoped Billie might succeed in at least giving that treacherous pretended
showman a severe wound when he fired, as he had promised to do.
It is always darkest before dawn, they say, and in his own limited
experience Adrian had found the truth of this more than once. It
happened now; and Billie, with his cheek pressing on the butt of his
leveled gun, was suddenly electrified to hear his comrade call out:
"Wait! it will be all right now, because there comes the chief!"
"Hurrah!" cried Billie, even raising his head to see for himself, no
matter if he did lose that splendid aim on the left shoulder of Braddon,
which he had been holding so steadily for at least one full minute now.
Yes, there were two figures approaching on the run, one of them the Zuni
chief, and the other their own good chum, Donald.
No wonder Billie immediately felt so happy that he tore off his cowboy
hat, and waved it wildly in the air as he let out a couple of whoops
that would have done credit to Bunch, Corney, Alkali, or any of the
other punchers who were his friends at Keystone Ranch.
Braddon seemed to be furious at sight of the two who were advancing so
hurriedly. It may be that he feared the worst--something in the situation
began to warn him that his missile had recoiled on his own head, and
that the signs were not altogether so promising as they may have seemed
a short time before.
He could be seen arguing with the medicine man, and the boys felt sure
he must be trying to induce him to make prisoners of the young palefaces
before the chief arrived, and took the power out of his hands.
But Pick-ne-quan-to was shrewd enough to see that Braddon was unduly
excited over a matter that should not have concerned him to any great
extent at all. He may have begun to entertain a dim suspicion of the
truth about that time, and wondered just how it was one of the white men
could be more successful than himself with regard to finding the lost
emblem, _unless they knew just where it had been placed_!
At any rate he persistently shook his head in the negative, nor could
any of the other's arguments convince him that he should proceed to act
before the arrival of the head man of the Zuni tribe, who was coming at
a faster gait than he had been known to undertake for many moons, he
being an old man.
"Is it all right, Adrian?" asked Billie, his voice trembling with
excitement.
"Looks that way," replied the other, scarcely able himself to restrain
his feelings, so as to appear reasonable and calm.
"Then I don't get my chance to peg that Braddon, do I?" continued the
fat chum, with a vein of dejection in his voice.
"Well, just keep an eye on him, Billie; and if either of them tries to
rush the tent, let him have it; because they might mean to drop some
other article they've gone and stolen, so as to put it on us," was what
Adrian advised.
But neither Braddon nor his younger ally, whom the boys had dubbed
Junior, seemed willing to take the risk of being shot; at any rate they
gave up trying to induce the medicine man to lead a sudden swoop down on
the boys, and standing moodily there, waited to see what was going to
happen.
Of course the two defenders of the camp knew full well; since Donald had
left them with the full intention of telling the old chief everything;
and the presence of the latter at this critical juncture was pretty
plain evidence that he had finally come to understand what a narrow
escape he had had from falling into a trap, and being deceived by the
man who claimed to own the greatest Wild West Combination in the
country, and which allowed him to offer them wonderful terms to travel
with his show, in order to exhibit the customs of the Zuni people in the
Far East.
Donald had doubtless been very anxious when he first saw that the camp
was in peril; but on discovering how his two dauntless chums seemed to
be holding the allied foes in check, his face relaxed in a broad grin;
and he waved his hand toward Adrian and Billie, as in company with the
chief he arrived on the spot.
In his native tongue the head man addressed the Witch Doctor, and there
could be no doubt but what he was asking what all this excitement meant.
Then Pick-ne-quan-to started to reply, in his slow and vigorous way.
From his gestures--for of course they could not understand his words--the
boys knew he was telling how he had made the startling discovery that
his lodge had been entered during his temporary absence, and the
wonderful gift of the Manitou, being nothing less than the Sacred Belt,
carried away. Then must have followed an account of how his suspicions
were directed toward the white boys, and how he had come, backed by the
strangers in the village who had expressed much interest in the recovery
of the emblem, to demand the return of the belt; but that a search of
the tent had failed to disclose the same.
And then came the grand surprise, just as Adrian and Billie anticipated,
when the chief suddenly drew something out from under his blanket, and
held it aloft, so that every one might see--the glittering Sacred Belt
that had come from Manitou!