There was heard a sound from within, as though Donald might be turning things over in a hurried search. Then they heard him give vent to a low ejaculation that somehow sent a thrill of expectancy through both the chums without.
Immediately Donald came rushing into the outer air. He was gripping something in one of his hands, and half holding the same aloft, while his
face was indeed a study, being both triumphant and grim at the same time, a curious combination indeed.
There was no need for him to shout aloud, and tell the others what he had discovered secreted under some of their traps in the tent; for both Adrian and Billie had eyes, and could see for themselves.
It was the sacred belt of the old Zuni medicine man, which they had seen fastened about his waist only an hour or two previous, and which he undoubtedly valued above all price, as a part of his ensignia of office—the magical belt which was believed by his people to have come down to him from the home of the Great Manitou in the Happy Hunting Grounds of the red men in the other world.
Billie tried to say something, but although his jaws were seen to work, only a queer gasping sound proceeded from between them. His very breath seemed to have been taken completely away by the astounding nature of the discovery made by the other chum, inside their tent.
It was not so bad with Adrian. He could command his speech, though almost as much staggered as poor Billie at sight of the Indian belt.
“They didn’t lose any time in getting busy, did they, Donald?” was what first came into his mind to say.
“I should say not,” replied the boy who held the belt. “While we were away some sneak crept into our tent here, and hid this under our traps. You can see what the game is; later on the medicine man will learn of his loss, and set up the biggest howl ever. Then somebody’ll kind of give him a sly hint that perhaps the paleface boys may know something about that same belt; for one of them was seen hanging around the rock lodge of the Witch Doctor—which was you, Billie, while trying to get a picture of the medicine man just coming out of his place, which the Indians believe is bewitched, so that nothing could hire one of them to even peep inside.”
“That’s about the way they mean to work it, as sure as you’re born,” agreed Adrian, nodding his head in confirmation.