Rattleton would have said something more, but the Indians, who had been holding an excited conversation, suddenly grasped the four remaining lads in a threatening manner.
“Oh, mah goodness!” palpitated Toots. “Heah is whar I’s gwan teh lose mah wool! It am feelin’ po’erful loose already!”
Browning was on the point of launching out with his heavy fists and making as good battle of it as he could when he heard Black Feather say:
“No hurt white boys. Make um keep still, so um not run ’way off like odder white boy. That am all.”
“I’ll take chances on it,” muttered Bruce, giving up quietly.
The four lads were forced to sit on the ground, and some of the savages squatted near. The fire was replenished, and the Indians seemed to hold a council.
“Deciding how they will kill us,” said Diamond, gloomily.
“Nothing of the sort,” declared Rattleton. “See them making motions toward the bicycles. They are talking about the wonderful two-wheeled horses.”
“Gracious!” gasped Toots; “dat meks mah hair feel easier!”
Browning held a hand on his stomach in a pathetic manner.