“I don’t see how we can help ourselves. If we start to leave it will look as if we are afraid of them, and, though they are on foot, they can overhaul us without trouble. No; let’s stand our ground. I don’t believe they mean any harm, but I should feel a good deal easier in mind if Mul-tal-la was on hand. It is odd that he and Deerfoot should be away at the time we are most likely to need them.”
The strangers came straight forward, and were soon so near that every face was clearly seen without the aid of the glass. The brothers learned that what they suspected was true: two of the Indians were boys, perhaps a little older than our young friends, and one of them was certainly taller. All were armed with bows and arrows, their dress being similar, as has been already said, to that worn by the Blackfoot.
George and Victor felt anything but comfortable. Previous experience warranted the hope that the Indians meant no harm, but for the time the youths could not be certain on that point. While the strangers probably would have acted friendly had either the Shawanoe or Blackfoot been with the lads, it was doubtful how it would be when they found the two alone. Place a party of lawless persons, no matter what their race, in a tempting situation, where they have no fear of any consequences of wrong-doing, and they may be depended upon to do wrong.
Had the boys been certain that mischief impended they would have warned the party off, but doubting and puzzled as to what was best to do, they waved their hands in token of good-will and awaited their coming as if nothing in the world could please them more.
The nearer the Indians approached the less the boys liked their looks. Their dress was shabby and their faces ugly. The taller of the dusky youths had daubed his face with paint at some remote period in the past, and enough remained to add to his repulsive looks, which were not diminished when his broad mouth expanded into a grin. His companion was not quite so tall, and was of broader and huskier frame.
The least repellent of the three warriors displayed some superiority in dress to the others. The hunting shirt had more fringes at the bottom; the dilapidated moccasins showed a few more beads, and he had three stained eagle feathers pointing upward from his crown, while neither of the others sported more than two. From these facts and a certain deference shown by the couple, George and Victor believed this fellow was a chief among his people. Furthermore, our friends were convinced that this particular redskin was the father of the boys, and I may add that in both suppositions the brothers were right.
“Howdy?” grinned the leader, who was a pace or two in advance of the others. As he spoke he extended his right hand to George, his long bow being in the left hand.
“Howdy?” replied George, taking the palm of the other. “I am glad to see my brothers,” he hypocritically added.
It was quickly apparent that none of the Indians could speak English. The salutation of the leader was the only word he knew. He made a response to George’s greeting, but it was unintelligible to the boys. He said something more, and, releasing his hand, reached out and took George’s rifle from his grasp.
It was done so deftly that the weapon was gone before the owner knew it.