“It is the quickest plan that could be devised to ensure Miss Brandon’s death.”
“Show me how,” added Swipes, with the air of a man who had proposed an unsoluble puzzle. “Demonstrate that as we say in geometry.”
“Suppose now that we should catch sight of this party of Apaches, out on the prairie, and should dash away after them at the top of our speed. There are six of them and eleven of us: what do you suppose would happen?”
“They’d drop the lady like a hot potatoe, or else put her in a safe position and then turn round and fight us.”
The young hunter laughed.
“Neither; they would see that there was no chance of getting the girl away, when they would tomahawk her, leave her dead on the plain, and then do their best to take care of themselves.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Swipes, perfectly aghast, “that would never do! Tell, Mr. Lancaster, I recall that advice, and do not risk him to follow it out.”
“There is no necessity of going to that trouble.”
“Yes; why not?”
“Because there is no danger of his following it; he knows too much; and, Mr. Swipes, you will allow me to suggest that it looks rather out of place for you or me, who never saw a prairie, except a short time ago, to attempt to advise a man who hunted upon them before either of us were born.”