Part 39 (1/2)

”Very well,” answered the boy, with some reluctance. They seemed friendly enough and, besides, there could be no danger to him in accompanying them.

As they started to move on, Tad clucked to Pink-eye and fell in with the party. He noticed shortly, that the others had ridden up and that he was in reality surrounded by the painted braves. Then he remembered that he had heard of roving bands of Indians in that part of the country--Indians who had been getting off their reservations and indulging in various depredations.

”Are we getting near the place?” asked the lad finally, a growing uneasiness rising within him.

”I'll ask the chief,” said the young Indian, who had been riding by Tad's side. ”He says it will be two hours yet,” was the reply, after a series of grunts and gestures had pa.s.sed between the men.

”It didn't take me that long to get here.”

”Camp almost one sun away.”

”Who is he?” indicating the leader of the party.

”Chief.”

”What's his name?”

”Chief w.i.l.l.y. He doesn't talk much English.”

”You do, though,” answered Tad, glancing up at the expressionless face of his companion.

”Me with Wild West show long, long time.”

”Is that so. Maybe I have seen you. Were you with the show that was in Chillicothe last summer? I saw the show then.”

”Me with um,” answered the redskin.

”Why, that's interesting,” said the boy, now thoroughly interested and for the time so absorbed in questioning the Indian about his life with the show that he forgot his own uneasiness.

By this time, darkness intense and impenetrable, at least to the eyes of the boy, had settled down about them. Yet it seemed to make no difference to the Indians, who kept their ponies at a steady jog-trot, picking their way unerringly, avoiding rocks and treacherous holes as if it were broad daylight.

Tad did not try to guide Pink-eye any more, but let him follow the others, and when he got a little out of his course, the pony next to him would crowd Pink-eye over where he belonged.

”Seems to me we are a long time getting there,” announced the boy finally. He was beginning to grow uneasy again.

”Come camp bymeby,” informed the young Indian. ”Chief, him know way.”

Tad had his doubts about that, but he thought it best not to tell them of his misgivings until he was certain. Perhaps they were honest Indians after all and were only seeking to do him a favor.

The lad was getting tired and hungry, having had nothing more than a mutton sandwich since early morning. He judged it must be getting close to midnight now.

As if interpreting his thoughts, the young Indian rode up close beside him, at the same time thrusting something into Tad's hand. ”What is it?” asked the boy. ”Eat. Good meat,” answered the Indian. The boy nibbled at it gingerly. It was meat of some kind, and it was tough. But most anything in the nature of food was acceptable to him then, so he helped himself more liberally and enjoyed his lunch. The dried meat was excellent, even if it was tough to chew.

After a little they came to a level stretch, and now the Indians put their ponies to a lively gallop, which Pink-eye, being surrounded by the other ponies, was forced to fall into to keep from getting run down by the riders behind him. Faster and faster they forced their mounts forward, uttering sharp little exclamations to urge them on, accompanied by sundry grunts and unintelligible mutterings.

That they all meant something, the boy felt sure. But it meant nothing to him so far as understanding was concerned.

After hours had pa.s.sed the lad found all at once that the gray dawn was upon them and it was not many minutes before the stolid faces of his companions stood out clear and distinct.

Tad jerked Pink-eye up sharply.