“And the girl, too!” cried Bilby. “I want the girl more than I do the crazy old Indian.”
“You’ll think he’s crazy if he ever sets eyes on you again, Mr. Bilby,” was Mr. Hammond’s warning. “He hasn’t forgotten you.”
Bilby drew back—and he looked frightened, too. “I—I don’t want him right now,” he muttered.
Hammond accepted the summons of the local court, glanced at it, and put it in his pocket.
“I see I have five days’ grace,” he remarked. “All right. I will see that proper representation is made before the court.”
“But we want them Indians,” said the deputy.
“This island is private property. I have hired its use for a certain term. I will allow you on it only under proper legal motion. Have you a search warrant?” Hammond asked the deputy.
“I ain’t got a warrant. I don’t need a warrant for a couple of Indians. They ain’t got any standing in this community. I know Indians all right. You give ’em over.”
“I do not even acknowledge that the two individuals you demand are under my control. At least, I know very well that no United States court can touch the young woman, Wonota, except through her guardian. That guardian is her father. I don’t see him here—do you?”
“You’d better produce him,” threatened the deputy.