The Indians appeared to be in no hurry, and from the fact that the carcass of a deer lay across the back of one of their ponies Ralph judged that they were a hunting party. But the appraising glances that they cast at the tethered ponies were by no means reassuring.

They looked about them cautiously for a time, and exchanged some hasty words in their guttural dialect. Then the one who wore the odd-looking frock coat and the eagle feather slipped from his pony and approached those that were tied.

It was high time to interfere apparently; but still Ralph hung back. Unarmed as he was, he was unwilling to show himself until actual necessity called for it. But when the frock-coated[211] Indian deliberately began to unknot the tie ropes of their ponies his intention was only too plain and the boy cast all prudence aside.

“Hey, you, let go of that pony!” he exclaimed, coming out from the shelter of the alders.

The Indian started and turned, and his two companions did the same. For a minute they were considerably startled, for “red coats” (mounted police) occasionally rode through that part of the country.

But when they saw that it was only a boy who faced them, they quickly recovered their composure.

“Hullo, white boy,” said the one that appeared to be the leader, speaking a dialect that cannot be reproduced on paper. “Hullo, white boy, what you want, eh?”

“I want you to leave those ponies alone,” spoke back Ralph boldly, “they belong to me and my partner.”

[212]

“That so, eh? Well, we take them ’long small piece, savee?”

The rascal coolly bent over the rope and went on unfastening it. Ralph was, for a minute, at a loss what to do. Then he bethought himself of Jim in the cave.

“Jim! oh, Jim!” he cried shrilly.

“Hullo,” came a hearty voice in reply, “what’s up?”

“Some rascals are stealing——” began Ralph, when one of the mounted Bloods slipped swiftly from his pony and, before the boy could utter an other syllable, grasped him by the throat. Ralph was a powerful boy, but in the hands of the wiry, muscular Blood he was no more than an infant The man drew an ugly looking knife.

“You keep quiet, eh? Me plentee stickee you, you make any more chac-chac (talk).”

Whether the Indian would really have carried out his threat or not Ralph had no means of guessing, but he deemed it most prudent under[213] the circumstances to obey. The Indian smelled most abominably of liquor, and was evidently in no docile mood. A sort of reckless deviltry danced in his eyes that warned Ralph not to cross him.

But the next instant, to his unspeakable relief, he heard Jim’s voice again.

“I’m trying to climb up the rock. I’ll be there in a jiffy. Confound it, but it’s slippery!”

Of course Ralph could not reply, but the words cheered him. If Jim would only appear with his rifle maybe he could scare the Bloods off. In an agony of impatience he waited. Luckily the rain had wetted the knots so that they were hard to untie and the Blood leader was having a lot of trouble with them.

Suddenly Ralph heard a sharp cry from the Indian that still remained on horseback. The one that was bending over the knots heard the exclamation and glanced up, as did the one that[214] was threatening Ralph. The boy, too, looked around and soon saw what had alarmed them.

Creeping into the clearing were two immense, tawny forms. The female cougar had returned with her mate!

The Indians gave a series of sharp cries, and the one that held Ralph released his hold and ran for his pony. So did the one that had been bent on stealing the white men’s mounts.

Lashing the ground with their tails the lions began to give utterance to a sort of whin............