Cherouka hadn’t sense enough to conceal his admiration of Miss Brandon or he didn’t care if it was observed. Fixing his sharp black eye upon the girl, he suddenly arose to his feet and walked toward her. Alarmed at the movement, she started back with a slight exclamation, and the Apache chief found his progress suddenly checked by Fred Wainwright the young hunter, who strode across his path and waved him back.
This occurrence created some little excitement, and for a moment threatened serious consequences. The brow of the chief darkened and he placed his hand upon his knife handle; but, his second thought evidently prevailed, and he sank back again, addressing Lancaster the interpreter. The latter laughed,
“What do you s’pose he says?” he asked turning to his friends.
No one could possibly imagine.
“He says he loves that gal, begging her pardon, that lady, and he wants her to go to his wigwam with him.”
This caused a smile, but, as it was plain that the chief was in earnest, all felt the propriety of hearing his ridiculous passion, as if it were entitled to serious consideration. Lancaster was therefore directed to inform the dusky dog that his compliment was duly appreciated, but that the “White Plume” could not accept his offer.
This being duly communicated to Cherouka served only to make him eager to secure the coy prize. He instantly offered a large belt of wampum and two horses for her. This was courteously but firmly refused as before, whereupon he made still more extravagant offers.
These meeting with the same fate as the others, he demanded the reasons why his offers were refused.
“What shall I tell him?” asked Lancaster, looking at the blushing girl. “Hanged if I know what excuse to give him.”
“Tell him she’s engaged!” called out Swipes in a husky whisper.