No, you're not. In some things you are like a block of wood," grumbled
Vorlange. The escape of Nellie had put him out a good deal.

The manner of the government spy provoked the Indian. To be called a
block of wood is, to the red man, a direct insult. Yellow Elk
straightened up.

"White man big fool!" he hissed. "Yellow Elk not make chase for him,"
and he folded his arms.

"You won't go after the boy and the girl?" queried Vorlange.

"No--white man hunt for himself if he want to catch the little woman
again."

And having thus delivered himself, Yellow Elk sat down by the brook and
refused to budge another step.

The Indian's objections to continuing the search were more numerous than
appeared on the surface. The so-called insult, bad as it was, was merely
an excuse to hide other motives. Yellow Elk had known Vorlange for years
and as the spy was naturally a mean fellow, the redskin hated him
accordingly.

Another reason for refusing to go ahead was that Yellow Elk knew only
too well that if Dick and Nellie were again taken, Vorlange would
consider both his own captives, and Yellow Elk would be "counted out" of
the entire proceedings. He could not go to the agency and claim any
glory, for he had run away without permission, although he had told
Vorlange he was away on a special mission connected with the soldiers.

And deeper than all was the thought that if he did not capture Nellie
now, he might do so later on, when he had separated from the spy. Ever
since he had first seen the beautiful girl he had been covetous of
making her his squaw. Indian fashion, he felt he could compel Nellie to
choose him, even if he had to whip her into making the choice.

"You won't go on with the search?" cried Vorlange, in a rage.

"No," was the short answer.

"I say you shall! See here, Yellow Elk, do you want to be shot?"

"Yellow Elk not afraid of Vorlange--Vorlange know dat. Yellow Elk go
back to cabin to see if girl or boy leave anything behind."

Then he got up, waded across the brook again and disappeared among the
trees surrounding the log cabin.

Louis Vorlange muttered a good many things in a very angry tone. Then,
torch in hand, he started up the brook bank to follow the trail alone.

Dick and Nellie listened to the quarrel with bated breath. Both hoped
that Vorlange would follow to the cabin. When he approached closer than
ever, their hearts seemed to almost stop beating.

Feeling that a contest was at hand,