As the Indian chief shoved his face into view he caught sight of Dick and uttered a slight huh! Up came the boy's weapon, but on the instant Yellow Elk disappeared.
For the moment Dick was too paralyzed to move. Like a flash he realized that Yellow Elk had the better of him, for the Indian was behind shelter, while he stood in a clearing.
"White boy stand still!" came in guttural tones from the redskin. "Don't dare move, or Indian shoot."
"What do you want of me?" asked Dick.
"White boy all alone?"
"What business is that of yours?"
At this Yellow Elk muttered a grunt. Then from out of the bushes Dick saw thrust the shining barrel of a horse pistol.
"White boy throw down little shooter," commanded the redskin. By little shooter he meant Dick's pistol.
There was no help for it, and the youth did as requested.
"White boy got udder shooter?"