Juan tried to pull away. But Tad held him in a firm grip.
Now that the dancers had passed through the fire unscathed, others followed them, some no more than touching the live coals, then bounding out on the other side of the pit; others remaining long enough to roll swiftly across the glowing bed.
Excitement was rapidly waxing higher and higher. The red men were in a dangerous mood. It boded ill for the paleface who sought to interfere with their carnival at this moment.
"Come!" whispered Tad in a low, tense voice. "We've got to get out of this mighty quick! Chunky's probably half scared to death, too."
Tad did not go far. He had scarcely taken half a dozen steps when a frenzied yell, a series of shrill shrieks sounded in the air. The sounds seemed to come from all directions at once.
"What's that?"
"Me not know."
"Somebody's running a pony. I hear it coming. It's headed right for that bunch of crazy savages. Probably an Indian gone mad."
It was not an Indian who was the cause of this new disturbance, as the lad discovered almost immediately afterward.
"Yip, yip! Y-e-o-w! W-o-w!"