Donald had been gone possibly ten minutes at the most when an exclamation from Billie announced that he had at last caught sight of the object his excited fancy had been conjuring up every second of the time since Donald vanished among the outcropping masses of stones, which would offer the spectators good seats later on from which they could observe all that went on, and at the same time feel perfectly safe from any of the crawling things that had a big share in the ceremony of the rattlesnake dance.
“Coming, are they, Billie?” asked Adrian, as calmly as he could, although there was a trace of unsteadiness in his tones as he quietly laid down the frying-pan he had been attending, and stood up, the better to see.
Yes, it was true, there could not be a solitary doubt of that. From out of the Zuni village a group of figures had burst, and these now came hurrying along toward the spot where the boys had raised their tent, and put out their ponies to graze.
“Whew! Look at the medicine man striding along at the head of the bunch, would you, Adrian?” burst out Billie. “There’s that Braddon along, also one of his cowardly helpers, the young chap we believe must be his son, Hey!
Adrian, shall we let ’em come into camp, and nose around, or do you mean to hold the lot up with a show of guns?”
Billie had made sure to have his repeating rifle close at hand all the while. Just as soon as he learned there was a strong likelihood that the camp was going to be invaded sooner or later, and themselves accused of a crime they had never dreamed of carrying out, the fat boy trailed his gun all around with him, no matter if he only stepped out to pick up another armful of fuel, so that the fire could be kept going, and their lunch continue to cook.
“If I’ve learned one thing since I came out to this country,” Billie often said these days, “it’s this: that whenever you do want a gun you want it in a mighty big hurry; and I don’t calculate to get left more’n I can help.”
“We’ve got to let them make a search; but neither of those white men shall take a step inside our tent,” declared Adrian, resolutely, as he too picked up his gun. “Because I wouldn’t put it past them to drop something else there, and then make out to find it. Let me do the talking, please, Billie, that’s a good fellow!”
[CHAPTER XXIV.—A DESPERATE SITUATION.]
For once Billie was perfectly willing that his chum should undertake to do all the talking. He felt himself that he might not be equal to such a tremendous undertaking as handling this job. And he had perfect confidence in Adrian, who always managed to keep his wits about him under the most exciting conditions.