Percy smiled, significantly.
“You did not find the same objection to him as to Howlish Wampo?”
“No. I was very happy in the Nez Perce village. But Howlish Wampo was resolved to get me again into his power. When an Indian vows revenge or seeks redress for any injury inflicted upon him he will wait patiently through long years for a favorable opportunity to accomplish his designs. So Howlish Wampo watched and waited, and, at last, a cruel chance made me again his captive.”
“He succeeded in surprising you?”
“Yes; and conveyed me back to the Yakima village. Here I was told that I must become his wife. I gave myself up to despair.”
“That was a year ago.”
“Yes; but when hope had abandoned me, when my dread doom seemed inevitable, Smoholler suddenly appeared in the village. He demanded me of the chief, and Howlish Wampo dared not refuse him.”
“That is strange! And the chief yielded you up to Smoholler?”
“He did; for he feared the power of the great Prophet of the Snakes.”
“And I don’t wonder, for he’s a regular anaconda!” interjected Cute. “But won’t his Snakeship get tired of waiting for us?”