Browning folded his arms, a look of intense satisfaction on his face as he observed:
“I have made a discovery that will be worth millions of dollars to the government of the United States. Now I know a swift and sure way of settling the Indian question. Provide every Indian in the country with a bicycle, and there will be no Indians left in a week or two.”
“Gamlet’s host—I mean Hamlet’s ghost!” chuckled Rattleton, holding his hand over his mouth to keep from shrieking with laughter. “I never saw anything like that before!”
Merriwell sprang forward and assisted Blue Wolf in untangling himself from the wheel, fearing the bicycle would be utterly ruined.
The little Indian was badly done up. His face was cut and bleeding in several places, and he was covered with dirt. With some difficulty he got upon his feet, and then he backed away from the bicycle, at which he glared with an expression of great fear on his countenance.
“Heap bad medicine!” he observed.
It seemed that the other Indians were really amused, although they remained solemn and impassive.
“Give me hatchet!” Blue Wolf suddenly snarled. “Heap fix two-wheel hoss!”
He would have made a rush for the offending wheel, but Frank held up a hand warningly, crying:
“Beware, Blue Wolf! It is in truth bad medicine, and it will put a curse upon you if you do it harm. Your squaw will die of hunger before another moon, your children shall make food for the coyotes, and your bones shall bleach on the desert! Beware!”