“Quartered at Rocheblave’s,” said Bowman. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what we ought to do about these savages,” said Helm. “They may murder that boy, in there, and it’s not safe to leave them the way they’re left now.”
“Oh, nonsense, Helm; that youngster’s able to take care of himself. You’re bound to wait your twenty minutes, you know, on account of your bet.”
“Well, if he doesn’t come out then, I’m going in after him,” said Helm, firmly. “I fear the lad’s run into a trap.”
“All right, when the time’s up,” said Bowman; “but I don’t believe that boy’s born to be murdered.”
They continued gazing at the mysterious building in deep doubt for some time, till, just as Helm’s patience was exhausted, the big door flew open once more, and forth rode, in all the splendor of an Indian princess, Ruby Roland, bewildering in her beauty, and, wheeling her horse sharp round to the right, galloped off up the street, followed by her retinue of chiefs, among whom the little adjutant could be seen, with a tall chief on each side of him, as the cavalcade dashed out of the hall and down the steps, all mounted as they were, like a whirlwind. Up the street they went, toward the government house, ere Helm had fully recovered from his amazement.
Then the party could be seen dismounting and entering the government house, when Bowman said:
“By Jove, gentlemen, one thing’s certain. Frank’s found an angel for us. That girl is a perfect Algonquin Venus.”
And plain Captain Bill Harrod said:
“Gosh, Bowman, don’t be flingin’ dictionaries at us. What in Old Scratch is a Algonquin Venus?”