gerish expression on his
ugly countenance that his assailant ought to have been warned of his
danger. Motoza, the Sioux, was ready to commit murder for the sake of
retaining that which did not belong to him.

"Stop!" commanded Fred Greenwood, whom both seemed to have forgotten in
the flurry of the moment.

The younger was standing a little to the rear and to one side, but his
Winchester, it will be remembered, was in his hand, and was now pointed
at the dusky scamp.

"Motoza, if you want to preserve that sweet countenance of yours, hand
that gun to my friend before I let daylight through you!"

CHAPTER XIII.

A STRANGE OCCURRENCE.

Once more Motoza had allowed an American youth to get the drop on him,
for he could not mistake the meaning of that command, nor the deeper
eloquence of the pose of Fred Greenwood with his rifle at a dead level.
The Sioux must have despised himself for his forgetfulness.

But he had already proven the readiness with which he accepted a
situation, no matter how unwelcome. The hand that held the weapon of
Jack Dudley whipped round to the front with a deft movement, which,
however, was not quicker than the return of the grin to his countenance.

"Motoza friend--he not want gun of brother," he remarked.

"You wouldn't get it if you _did_ want it," said Jack, not to be
mollified by this sudden change of front. Instead of accepting the
hypocritical proffer, the youth was imprudent enough to add, as he felt
his Winchester once more in his grasp:

"You are the meanest thief in the country, Motoza, and this must be the
last time you try your hand on us."

"Off with you!" added Fred, beginning to tire with the constraint of his
position; "good-by, Motoza, and I hope we shall not meet again."

At the moment of obeying, the Sioux glanced at the lad who had thus
turned the tables on him. The expression of his face was frightful.
Ferocious hate, thirst for revenge and flaming anger shone through the
coat of paint and were concentrated on the younger of the youths. Fred
saw it and cared not, but Jack was so alarmed that he almost wished his
comrade would fire his weapon and thus shut out the fruition of the
horrible threat that gleamed through that look.

It lasted, however, but an instant. Much in the same manner as in the
grove, when caught at a disadvantage by Jack Dudley, the Sioux walked
off and was quickly lost to view.

Neither of the boys spoke for several minutes. Then Jack