Thunder-maker did not move while the strangers were watching him. To all outward appearance he was asleep.

Holden stepped forward and shook the Medicine Man roughly by the shoulder.

"Come along! Open your eyes, you old scoundrel. You are no more sleeping than we are," he said.

The Indian moved, slowly opened his eyes, and looked for a few moments at the speaker, just as a person would who had been suddenly roused from a deep slumber. Then a pleased smile broke over his face.

"My white brothers in the tent of Thunder-maker? They are very welcome," he said.

But Holden did not respond to the greeting, as he demanded—

"Does Thunder-maker think that we are fools?[Pg 142] Do you think we did not hear you piping to those vile serpents of yours?"

The Indian looked puzzled.

"My white brothers speak strange words, or it may be that the mind of Thunder-maker still sleeps——"

"Rot!" interrupted Arnold brusquely. "The Thunder-maker's mind is wide enough awake. What is the use of lying to us? We know that you put those snakes into our teepee, and we heard you call them back when you found that your purposes had failed."

For answer, the Indian raised one of the blankets and disclosed a basket against which he had been leaning during his pretended sleep. He raised the lid, looked in, and signed the Englishmen to do likewise.

"See? On their bed of grass my little papooses also sleep," he said, lifting the basket so as to show the tangle of green bodies that it contained.

"We can gain nothing by further talking," remarked Arnold to his companion in an undertone. "The fellow has done us this time, and we have nothing to support us if we accuse him before Mighty Hand."[Pg 143]

"That's true enough," returned Holden. "He is best man this time."

The Indian quietly closed the lid and again covered the basket with a blanket, after which he looked up with a cunning and triumphant leer.

"White men will eat; then—Mighty Hand take trail for Pleasant Valley!"

How he seemed to gloat over the thought of the terrible fate that awaited his enemies! Brave men though they were, they could not but feel a sense of shrinking at the picture that this man's attitude and tone conjured up. There are times when anticipations of pleasure seem to be rendered more alluring by reason of description. It is also so with expectancy of pain. Words may paint that picture in crimson colours so that our revulsion is intensified before we see it.

"We will gain nothing by remaining here," said Arnold abruptly, as he turned from the tent, whence he was followed by his companion. And as the Englishmen departed they heard the Indian saying aloud, purposely to be overheard—

"The pale-face no' think that he see Pleasant Valley, but fiery totem call. Fiery totem must be obeyed."[Pg 144]

Thunder-maker grinned evilly to himself as he watched the departure of his visitors. Then he rose up, folded around him a robe of deerskin that was covered with many strange designs, and crept with the sly movements of a prowling wolf among the various teepees. Reaching the farther side of the camp, he stopped in front of one of the tents that stood a little way apart from the others. Gently he raised the flap and looked in. An Indian of gigantic size was sitting by himself, adjusting his leggings and moccasins. He looked up to observe his visitor, and it was noticeable that as he did so Thunder-maker winced as though he were in pain.

There were few who could look upon that man's face without wincing. In early scalping-days it had been slashed on one side with a scalping-knife in such a way that the left eye was totally destroyed, and a livid scar ran from the eyebrow to the neck—drawing the flesh into creases that robbed that part of the face of any semblance to humanity. The other side was whole, but the entire expression was so horrible that even familiarity did little to prevent repulsion in the senses of the beholder.

"Thunder-maker is welcome to the tent of[Pg 145] Red Fox," the Indian remarked, returning again to the completion of his wardrobe.

"Thunder-maker would speak wise words with his brother," said the Medicine Man, entering, but not deigning to sit in the tent of that "brother." He seldom paid that honour to any teepee except his own and that of the chief.

"It is well," returned the other man. "Red Fox will gladly hear the wise words the Thunder-maker will speak."

The Medicine Man did not waste any time in needless palaver. The hours were precious to him, and............