“And some of the hornets will get snuffed out when they come buzzing around us,” responded Glyndon. “We can put an extinguisher on this Prophet, first thing he knows. We’ll bottle him up before he can get any help from his own village, or anywhere else. But now, tell me, did you see any squaw with the Prophet?”
“Yes—a squaw called Oneotah!” added Multuomah.
“There, I told you Oneotah was a girl!” cried Cute.
“She is there then?”
This question sprung simultaneously from the lips of Glyndon and Multuomah.
“There is a singular-looking Indian boy there, wearing an antelope’s head, which completely conceals his face, whom the Prophet calls Oneotah,” replied Percy Vere; “and I have reason to believe that this pretended boy is a girl.”
“I’ll bet my bottom dollar on it!” exclaimed Cute. “She’s got the nicest, softest little fingers that I ever got hold of—”
“You did not see her face?” inquired Glyndon.
“No; the antelope’s head conceals it utterly—indeed is worn for the purpose of a disguise, the Prophet himself admitted to me.”
“Does she appear to be under any restraint there?” Multuomah now asked, with eager anxiety.