Blue Wolf paused, dismay written on his face. He longed to smash the bicycle, but he was convinced that it was really “bad medicine,” and he was afraid to injure it.
“Say, that is great, old man!” enthusiastically whispered Rattleton in Merriwell’s ear. “Keep it up.”
“Blue Wolf not hurt two-wheel hoss,” declared Black Feather, who seemed to be the chief of the little band. “Want to see white boy ride.”
“Do you mean that you want me to ride?” asked Frank.
“Ugh!”
“All right,” said Frank. “I’ll show you how it is done.”
Then he motioned for the savages to stand aside.
“No try to run ’way,” warned Black Feather. “Injun shoot um.”
“All right, your royal jiblets. If I try to run away you may take a pop at me.”