"I have not seen the white men. How can I tell why they are here? Let
me ride forward and look at them--then I shall be able to speak."
A very slight smile of contempt curled the chiefs lip for an instant as
he replied--
"No. The white woman see them when they be trapped. Unaco knows one.
He is black--a devil with two face--many face, but Unaco's eyes be
sharp. They see far."
So saying, he turned and gave some directions to his warriors, who at
once scattered themselves among the underwood and disappeared. Ordering
the Indians who carried Tom Brixton to follow him, and the riders to
bring up the rear, he continued to advance up the gorge.
"A devil with two faces!" muttered Tolly; "that must be a queer sort o'
beast! I _have_ heard of a critter called a Tasmanian devil, but never
before heard of an Oregon one with two faces."
An expressive glance from the Indian who guarded him induced the lad to
continue his speculations in silence.
On passing round the jutting rock, where Unaco had been checked in his
advance, the party at once beheld the cause of anxiety. Close to the
track they were following were seen four men busily engaged in making
arrangements to encamp for the night.
It need scarcely be said that these were our friends Paul Bevan, Fred
Westly, Flinders, and the botanist.
The moment that these caught sight of the approaching party they sprang
to their arms, which of course lay handy, for in those regions, at the
time we write of, the law of might was in the ascendant. The appearance
and conduct of Unaco, however, deceived them, for that wily savage
advanced towards them with an air of confidence and candour which went
far to remove suspicion, and when, on drawing nearer, he threw down his
knife and tomahawk, and held up his empty hands, their suspicions were
entirely dispelled.
"They're not likely to be onfriendly," observed Flinders, "for there's
only five o' them altogither, an' wan o' them's only a bit of a boy an'
another looks uncommon like a wo--"
He had got thus far when he was checked by Paul Bevan's exclaiming, with
a look of intense surprise, "Why, that's Betty!--or her ghost!"
Flinders's astonishment was too profound to escape in many words. He
only gave vent to, "Musha! there's Tolly!" and let his lower jaw drop.
"Yes, it's me an' the Beautiful Nugget" cried Tolly, jumping off the
pony and running to assist the Nugget to dismount, while the bearers of
Tom Brixton laid him on the ground, removed the blanket, and revealed
his face.
The exclamations of surprise would no doubt have been redoubled at this
sight if the power of exclamation had not been for the time destroyed.
The sham botanist in particular was considerably puzzled, for he at once
recognised Tom and also Betty, whom he had previously known. Of course
he did not know Tolly Trevor; still less did he know that Tolly knew
_him_.
Unaco himself was somewhat surprised at the mutual recognitions, though
his habitual self-restraint enabled him to conceal every trace of
emotion. Moreover, he was well aware that he could not afford to lose
time in the development of his little plot. Taking advantage,
therefore, of the surprise which had rendered every one for the moment
more or less confused, he gave a sharp signal which was well understood
by his friends in the bush.
Instantly, and before Tolly or Betty could warn their friends of what
was coming, the surrounding foliage parted, as if by magic, and a circle
of yelling and painted Redskins sprang upon the white men. Resistance
was utterly out of the question. They were overwhelmed as if by a
cataract and, almost before they could realise what had happened, the
arms of all the men were pinioned behind them.
At that trying hour little Tolly Trevor proved himself to be more of a
man than most of his friends had hitherto given him credit for.
The savages, regarding him as a weak little boy, had paid no attention
to him, but confined their efforts to the overcoming of the powerful and
by no means submissive men with whom they had to deal.
Tolly's first impulse was to rush to the rescue of Paul Bevan; but he
was remarkably quick-witted, and, when on the point of springing,
observed that no tomahawk was wielded or knife drawn. Suddenly grasping
the wrist of Betty, who had also naturally felt the impulse to succour
her father, he exclaimed--
"Stop! Betty. They don't mean murder. You an' I can do nothing
against so many. Keep quiet; p'r'aps they'll leave us alone."
As he spoke a still deeper idea flashed into his little brain. To the
surprise of Betty, he suddenly threw his arms round her waist and clung
to her as if for protection with a look of fear in his face, and when
the work of binding the captives was completed the Indians found him
still labouring to all appearance under great alarm. Unaco cast on him
one look of supreme scorn, and then, leaving him, like Betty, unbound,
turned towards Paul Bevan.
"The white man is one of wicked band?" he said, in his broken English.
"I don't know what ye mean, Redskin," replied Paul; "but speak your own
tongue, I understand it well enough to talk with ye."
The Indian repeated the question in his native language, and Paul,
replying in the same, said--
"No, Redskin, I belong to no band, either wicked or good."
"How come you, then, to be in company with this man?" demanded the
Indian.
In reply Paul gave a correct account of the cause and object of his
being there, explained that the starving man before them was the friend
for whom he sought, that Betty was his daughter, though how she came to
be there beat his comprehension entirely, and that the botanist was a
stranger, whose name even he did not yet know.
"It is false," returned the chief. "The white man speaks with a forked
tongue. He is one of the murderers who have slain my wife and my
child."
A dark fierce frown passed over the chief's countenance as he spoke, but
it was quickly replaced by the habitual look of calm gravity.
"What can stop me," he said, reverting again to English as he turned and
addressed Betty, "from killing you as my wife was killed by white man?"
"My God can stop you," answered the girl, in a steady voice, though her
heart beat fast and her face was very pale.
"Your God!" exclaimed the savage. "Will your God defend the wicked?"
"No, but He will pardon the wicked who come to Him in the name of Jesus,
and He will defend the innocent."
"Innocent!" repeated Unaco, vehemently, as he turned and pointed to the
botanist. "Does you call _this_ man innocent?"
"I know nothing about that man," returned the girl, earnestly; "but I do
know that my father and I, and all the rest of us, are innocent of any
crime against you."
For a few seconds the savage chief gazed steadily at Betty, then turning
towards the botanist he took a step towards the spot where he sat and
looked keenly into his face.
The botanist returned the gaze with equal steadiness through his blue
spectacles.