“Because he hasn’t, and he knows he will get into trouble if he does.”
Frank had hit the nail on the head. The owner of the dog realized he had been heard when he pointed out Dick Merriwell to the huge animal, and he was afraid to carry the matter too far. Although furious at the death of the dog, he soon decided to withdraw and keep still, for the time, at least.
Frank talked privately to the officer for a few moments, promising Crowfoot should face any complaint made, and the policeman decided not to arrest the old Indian then.
The umpire had called time as soon as he could, and the game was not resumed until Merriwell and Old Joe appeared, followed by the policeman, and walked out to the bench, where the Indian sat down.
Then the crowd cheered for the aged Indian, but he seemed not to hear their shouting. With perfect nonchalance he proceeded to refill and relight his pipe.
CHAPTER XXXII.
GETTING THE LEAD.
Berlin Carson had been quick-witted enough to get the knife away from Crowfoot, aided by Dick Merriwell, who was able to make the Indian understand he was in danger if the weapon was found upon his person.
Frank’s eyes detected this move, and so he did not worry much when the redskin was searched for concealed weapons.