“You don’t have to warn me and my partner,” said the fellow. “We got enough right now. Is he coming ashore?”
He turned to look at the boat, and then leaped to his feet in some fear. Totantora, by leaning well over the stern of the boat, had dragged the torn coat out of the propeller, and now he was coolly examining the mechanism with the evident idea of starting the boat. The Indian seemed familiar with the driving power of such a craft.
“I think he will bring his daughter ashore,” Ruth said composedly. “If I were you I would not cross him further.”
“I ain’t going to, Miss,” said the fellow, now on his feet. “I see Jim is keeping as far away from him as he can. Jim can’t swim.”
“Go aside somewhere. When they reach the bank I will try to take Totantora and the girl away with me. Do nothing to cross him, for the temper of an Indian is not easily quelled. It just simmers and may break out again at any time.”
“Believe me,” said the fellow, starting off through the bushes, “I ain’t aiming to have another run-in with him. Not with my bare hands. I hope he don’t smash the boat, that’s all.”
“I will do all I can to pacify Totantora,” said Ruth, and she really was somewhat anxious on this point, for the grim countenance of the Indian chief threatened further reprisal.
He was busy with the engine for a time; but by and by the regular popping of the exhaust revealed the fact that everything was all right with it. The boat described a circle and came back into the cove and to the place where Ruth stood on the bank.
The second white man, who was younger and looked less like a drowned rat, remained in the bow, staring back in apprehension at the Indian. The moment he could do so, this man leaped ashore.
“Say nothing to him,” advised Ruth. “I will try to take them both away. And, as I have warned your companion, have nothing more to do with Bilby or his schemes. These Indians are my friends, and they have other friends who are much more powerful than I am, I can assure you.”