But neither Braddon nor his younger ally, whom the boys had dubbed Junior, seemed willing to take the risk of being shot; at any rate they gave up trying to induce the medicine man to lead a sudden swoop down on the boys, and standing moodily there, waited to see what was going to happen.
Of course the two defenders of the camp knew full well; since Donald had left them with the full intention of telling the old chief everything; and the presence of the latter at this critical juncture was pretty plain evidence that he had finally come to understand what a narrow escape he had had from falling into a trap, and being deceived by the man who claimed to own the greatest Wild West Combination in the country, and which allowed him to offer them wonderful terms to travel with his show, in order to exhibit the customs of the Zuni people in the Far East.
Donald had doubtless been very anxious when he
first saw that the camp was in peril; but on discovering how his two dauntless chums seemed to be holding the allied foes in check, his face relaxed in a broad grin; and he waved his hand toward Adrian and Billie, as in company with the chief he arrived on the spot.
In his native tongue the head man addressed the Witch Doctor, and there could be no doubt but what he was asking what all this excitement meant. Then Pick-ne-quan-to started to reply, in his slow and vigorous way. From his gestures—for of course they could not understand his words—the boys knew he was telling how he had made the startling discovery that his lodge had been entered during his temporary absence, and the wonderful gift of the Manitou, being nothing less than the Sacred Belt, carried away. Then must have followed an account of how his suspicions were directed toward the white boys, and how he had come, backed by the strangers in the village who had expressed much interest in the recovery of the emblem, to demand the return of the belt; but that a search of the tent had failed to disclose the same.
And then came the grand surprise, just as Adrian and Billie anticipated, when the chief suddenly drew something out from under his blanket, and held it aloft, so that every one might see—the glittering Sacred Belt that had come from Manitou!
[CHAPTER XXVI.—THE RATTLESNAKE DANCE.]
“Yes siree, that was about the closest shave I ever knew; and you couldn’t have dropped in on us at a more fortunate minute, Donald, that’s what!”
Billie was saying this, as he had done half a dozen times before, while he himself and two chums were seated on the pile of rocks that overlooked the little plaza where the Zunis were preparing to go through the last ceremony of their yearly feast and tribal observances, the rattlesnake dance, weirdest of all scenes ever witnessed by the eyes of white men and women.
“Well,” remarked Donald, with one of his rare and engaging smiles, “I give you my solemn word, boys, I didn’t time our coming so as to make it seem dramatic, like a Frenchman might have done. Fact is, I urged the chief to hurry all I could, after I’d told him everything I knew, and given him the old belt that I had hidden, and which he was afraid to even touch at first.”