At this the Indian flared up, and replied in a quick, angry voice.
“You lie! Ruff steal pappoose from Maquesa—Maquesa take pappoose back from him.”
That solved the question that had been puzzling Harry during the last few minutes. He knew now that he was talking to Maquesa himself.
After following him for days and weeks in vain, and when about ready to give up the search as hopeless, the chief had come forward from his hiding-place and shown himself.
The lad still felt himself in a dangerously delicate position, and he never longed so much for the presence of Old Ruff as he did now that he had discovered the identity of his interlocutor.
What was the object of these three men coming from the gloom and surrounding him in the manner that they had done? What did Maquesa mean by questioning him so closely? And what was their purpose regarding the boy whom they had so completely in their power?
These were the questions which the lad put to himself, and whose answers caused him no little trouble and anxiety.
Maquesa, upon making the foregoing reply, gave some signal to the other warriors, and all three seated themselves upon the ground, as if they had concluded to spend the night with him. Without waiting for an invitation, Harry followed suit, and he played the part of a host by drawing the cooked meat from beneath the stone, where he had hid it from prying animals, and offering it to his guests. But all declined accepting it, and he placed it back again.
As the chief remained silent for some time, Harry concluded to put some questions to him, on his own account, hoping to gain a little information, but somewhat distrustful of the result.
“Old Ruff found Little Rifle asleep, and no one was near; he thought the pappoose would die, and he brought it away to save its life.”