"Why, how do you know?" I exclaimed.
"I judge from their faces," said Rectus.
Of course this made me laugh, but he didn't care.
"I'll tell you what we could do," said he; "we could enter a protest that might be heard of, and do some good. We could take a pot of black paint and a brush with us, and paint on one of the doors that open into the inner square,—where everybody could see it,—something like this: 'Let the righteous Indian go free.' That would create talk, and something might be done."
"Who'd do it?" said I. "The captain in command couldn't. He has no power to let any of them go free."
"Well, we might address the notice to the President of the United States—in big black letters. They could not conceal such a thing."
"Well, now, look here, Rectus," said I; "this thing is going to cost too much money. That rope was expensive, and the grapnel cost a good deal more than we thought it would; and now you want a big pot of black paint. We mustn't spend our money too fast, and if we've got to economize, let's begin on black paint. You can write your proclamation on paper, and stick it on the door with tacks. They could send that easier to the President than they could send a whole door."
"You may make as much fun as you please," said Rectus, "but I'm going to write it out now."
And so he did, in big letters, on half a sheet of foolscap.