Part 25 (1/2)

”Well, that's all pretty straight and easy. n.o.body can say fairer nor that,” meditated Bob Hetherington.

”Shut up!” said his chief; ”who asked for your oar? I'll knock the bloomin' nut off you if you don't watch out. Blindfold the emissary of the enemy, and bring her before me into the inner court.”

And with this peremptory command, Nipper Donnan disappeared.

But the order was more easily given than obeyed. For not only could the entire array of the Comanche Cowboys produce nothing even distantly resembling Indian silk (which at any rate was a counsel of perfection), but what was worse, their pockets were equally dest.i.tute of common domestic linen. Indeed the proceedings would have fallen through at this point had not the amba.s.sadress offered her own. This was knotted round her brows by Joe Craig, with the best intentions in the world.

Immediately after completing the arrangement, he stepped in front of Prissy and said, thrusting his fist below her nose, ”Tell me if you see anything--mind, true as 'Hope-you-may-Die!'”

”I do see something, something very dirty,” said Prissy, ”but I can't quite tell what it is.”

”She _can_ see, boys,” cried Joe indignantly, ”it's my hand.”

Every boy recognised the description, and the handkerchief was once more adjusted with greater care and precision than before, so that it was only by the sense of smell that Prissy could judge of the proximity of Joe Craig's fingers.

”Please let me carry my basket myself--I've got my best china tea-service in it--and then I will be sure that it won't get broken.”

A licentious soldiery was about to object, but a stern command issued unexpectedly from one of the arrow-slits through which their chief had been on the watch.

”Give the girl the basket! Do you hear--you?”

And in this manner Prissy entered the castle, guarded on either side by soldiers with fixed (wooden) bayonets. And at the inner and outer ports, the convoy was halted and asked for the pa.s.s-word.

”_Death!_” cried Joe Craig, at the pitch of his voice.

”_Vengeance!_” replied the sentry. ”Pa.s.s, '_Death_'!”

At last Prissy felt the gra.s.s beneath her feet, and the handkerchief being slipped from her eyes, she found herself within the courtyard of the castle. The captain of the band sat before her with a red sash tied tightly about his waist. By his side swung a butcher's steel, almost as long and twice as dangerous as a sword.

Prissy began her mission at once, to allow Captain Donnan no time to order her out again, or to put her into a dungeon, as he had done with Hugh John.

”I think we had better have tea first,” she said. ”Have you got a match-box?”

She could not have taken a better line. Nipper Donnan stepped down from his high horse at once. He put his hand into his pocket. ”I have only fusees,” he said grandly, ”but perhaps they will do. You see regular smokers never use anything else.”

”Oh yes, they will do perfectly,” returned Prissy sweetly, ”it is just to light the spirit-lamp. See how nicely it fits in. Isn't it a beauty? I got that from father on my birthday. Wasn't it nice of him?”

Nipper Donnan grunted. He never found any marked difference between his birthday and any other day. Nevertheless he stood by and a.s.sisted at the making of the tea, a process which interested him greatly.

”I shall need some more fresh spring water for so many cups,” said Prissy, ”I only brought the full of the kettle with me.”

The chief slightly waved a haughty hand, which instantly impelled Joe Craig forward as if moved by a spring. ”Bring some fresh water from the well!” he commanded.

Joe Craig took the tin dipper, and was marching off. Prissy looked distressed.

”What is it?” said the robber chief. Now Prissy did not want to be rude, but she had her feelings.

”Oh, please, Mr. Captain,” she said, ”his hands--I think he has perhaps been working----”

Nipper Donnan had no fine scruples, but he respected them in such an unknown quant.i.ty as this dainty little lady with the green trimmed sun-bonnet and the widely-opened eyes.