“By the great horn toads!” he exploded savagely; “that’s the old skunk what drugged the whole bunch of us when Pete Curry nabbed us! Whatever is he doing here?”
Without even looking up, Crowfoot began to chant a strange, doleful song in his own language.
“The boys will certain salivate him,” asserted the guard, as the men were rising and approaching the fire.
Old Joe apparently heard nothing and saw nothing. That singular chant continued.
“He is dead loony,” said Hackett.
“Then mebbe he’s been taking some of his own dope,” growled the guard. “The boys will knock some o’ his looniness out o’ him, you bet!”
As the men gathered around, a number of them recognized the aged redskin, and immediately there was a great commotion. Several drew their weapons, and it seemed that Joe would be murdered on the spot. With a scream of terror, Felicia flung herself before the old man, to whom she clung.
“No! no! no!” she cried. “You shall not hurt him!”
In the excitement old Joe whispered in her ear:
“Keep still, Night Eyes. Um bad men no hurt Joe. Him touched by Great Spirit. Nobody hurt um man touched by Great Spirit.”