Smoholler laughed.
“Boys must eat,” he answered. “Have you not heard that the Indians are celebrated for their hospitality?”
“I don’t know much about Indians in general,” replied Cute, “but you are a particular instance, and hard to beat. I don’t think there are many like you.”
“Smoholler is the great leader of the red-men,” answered the Prophet, sententiously. “In all this land there is no other chief like him.”
“That’s so!” affirmed Cute. “I’ll bet my bottom dollar on you.”
Percy Vere, who had been gazing about him, curiously, now said:
“Is not this near the top of the cliff?”
Oneotah placed her torch in a niche in the wall.
“Come,” she said.
She gave him her hand, led him into a dark passage, turned abruptly to the right after proceeding a few steps, and checked Percy’s further advance. He gazed forward. The sky was overhead, studded with innumerable stars. Far below, down in the gloom of night, a watch-fire sent forth its ruddy glare.