Harry became uneasy under these pointed questions—the object of which he could not divine. He was unwilling to be more explicit in his replies, until he could be certain of what the result of such a revelation was likely to be. So he rather ingeniously took up the appellation the Indian had applied to him, resenting it with an assumption of indignation.
“Why do you call me a pappoose?” he demanded, straightening up. “I am no more a babe than are your warriors. I am a hunter and a man!”
This grandiloquent reply caused a very perceptible grin upon the faces of all three Blackfeet, who seemed to admire the spirit of the lad; but it did not divert the leader from the “line” of questioning which he had laid out.
“Where old hunter go—why he leave little brave white man?”
“He has gone off on a hunt, and when he gets through, I suppose he will return.”
Such a reply as this, it would seem, ought to have satisfied any ordinary mortal, and it would have done so, but for the fact that the red-skin was unquestionably upon the scent of something, and most probably knew a great deal more than he pretended.
“What he look for—big bear or big Injin?”
“He is looking for Maquesa, the great Blackfoot chief,” replied Harry, feeling there was no avoiding the issue; “he and I have been hunting for him for weeks, but have not been able to see him. Old Ruff thought to find him in his village, where he met him a long time ago, but the village is gone, and he knows not where he is.”
“Why he look for big Injin chief?”
“Because he stole Little Rifle, and has run away with him,” answered Harry, purposely using the masculine reference.