Ali Beha stood with folded arms and watched.
The professor made no remonstrance, but on his face there was a look of helpless despair that was pitiful to see.
Buckhart was pale, his lips pressed together and his jaw squared.
Dick’s dark eyes flashed and his nostrils dilated. Although he submitted without another word of protest, there were resentment and anger in his pose.
“It is well,” said the chief.
“Now, where are our friends?” cried Merriwell suddenly. “We wish to see them. Have you deceived us?”
“Thou shalt see that I have not. The friend who sent for thee is in yonder tent. He is waiting to greet thee. Enter.”
The chief made a sweeping gesture toward one of the larger tents.
Both Dick and Brad started toward this tent, but immediately the Texan was stopped, while the chief informed him that he was not to enter.
“If there’s any trouble, pard,” said Buckhart, “just raise the war cry. I’ll try to join you.”