ear, after the glory of killing it had worn a little
thin. At all events, he was a most astonished Indian. Evidently these
monsters in human form were disposed to be friends with
him--particularly this red-headed young chief who had proved himself so
good a wrestler. All he had ever heard of pale-faces was against
believing it, but there was no chance of escaping from the ring of
riflemen now gathered around him, and he gave it up. He answered Yellow
Pine's questions by signs only, until something he said brought an
exclamation from the old miner Jonas.

"Nez Perce! He's a Nez Perce, Pine. I know their lingo. He can talk
some English, too. He needn't play 'possum any longer."

Two Arrows felt that he was completely beaten, and even pride failed to
carry him any farther. It came to his mind, also, with a peculiar force,
that he was by no means sure of the approval of Long Bear and his
warriors. They had not sent him out to kill pale-faces and bring upon
them the vengeance of the terrible "brass-button men" he had heard of.
He had seen a few of them, and had wondered at their great knives, twice
as long as his arm. He decided to speak out now, and in a few moments
Jonas had pumped him thoroughly.

"He isn't on any war-path," said Yellow Pine to Judge Parks; "he's jest
a fool of a boy. We'll keep him till mornin' and carry him over to his
own camp. It's the best way in the world to make friends with 'em."

"All right," replied the judge; "we must get out some presents. See that
he doesn't get away."

"I'll look out for that--you bet I will."

So he did, and Two Arrows had now no knife with which to cut the rope
whereby he was tied to Yellow Pine's elbow when that "big brave" lay
down again. Sile rolled himself up in a blanket, only a few feet from
them, and hardly slept a wink. He had captured a wild red Indian and it
beat all the novels he had ever seen. He did not hear his father chuckle
to himself, nor could he read the thoughts of the old judge. Long Bear
himself was not prouder of Two Arrows and his grisly than was Sile's
father of the manner in which his own boy had met and grappled with a
sudden peril.

"He'll be at the head of something or other some day," he muttered, as
he was dropping asleep.

Not even Na-tee-kah knew anything of the movements or whereabouts of Two
Arrows this time, and her father questioned her in vain. His absence was
"irregular," and when the hours went by and he did not return, the