n old cavalry saber, the third
carrying two gigantic .45 Colts in holsters.

He carried the Winchester over his arm, and still wore the grimy pith
helmet. Ambrose smiled with bitter amusement. It seemed like the very
sport of fate that he should be placed in the power of such a poor
creature as this.

"How!" said Watusk, offering his hand with an affable smile.

Ambrose, remembering the look of his face when it rose over the bank,
was sharply taken aback. He lacked a clue to the course of reasoning
pursued by Watusk's mongrel mind. However, he quickly reflected that
it was only by exercising his wits that he could hope to help Nesis.
He took the detestable hand and returned an offhand greeting.

"You mak' beeg mistak' you try run away," said Watusk. "You mos' safe
here."

"How is that?" asked Ambrose warily.

"I your friend," said Watusk.

Ambrose suppressed the inclination to laugh.

"I keep you here so people won't hurt you," Watusk went on. "My people
lak children. Pretty soon forget what they after. Pretty soon forget
they mad at you. Then I let you out."

"Do you still mean to say that I killed one of your men?" demanded
Ambrose hotly.

Watusk shrugged. "Myengeen say so."

"It's a lie!" cried Ambrose scornfully. An expectant look in Watusk's
eye arrested him from saying more. "He's trying to find out how much
Nesis told me," he thought. Aloud he said, with a shrug like Watusk
himself: "Well, I'll be glad when it blows over."

"Two three day I let you out," Watusk said soothingly. "You can have
anything you want."

"How is Nesis?" demanded Ambrose abruptly.

There was a subtle change in Watusk's eyes; no muscle of his face
altered.

"She all right," he said coolly.

"Where is she?"

"I send her to my big camp 'cross the river."

"You shouldn't blame Nesis for helping me out," Ambrose said
earnestly--not that he expected to make any impression. "She's only a
child. I made her do it."

Watusk spread out his palms blandly. "I not blame her," he said. "I
not care not'ing only maybe you get drown in the rapids."

Ambrose studied the brown mask narrowly. Watusk gave nothing away.
Suddenly the Indian smiled.

"You t'ink I mad for cause she go wit' you?" he said. He laughed
silently. "Wa! There are plenty women. When I let you out I give you
Nesis."

This sounded a little too philanthropic.

"H-m!" said Ambrose.

"You lak little Nesis, hey?" inquired Watusk, leering.