“She—if it is she—is under no restraint, and does his bidding willingly. He’s cast some spell upon her, and that’s what he wants of the boys—he’ll humbug them to go to his village with him, and make them useful to him. He saw they were smart, and he wants them. His telling them about giving them news of Percy’s father is all a humbug.”
“Do you think so?” asked Blaikie, surprisedly.
“I just do.”
“Then, why did you let them go?”
“I was a dunce to do so! But I kind of thought the Prophet might know something, and then the boys were so anxious to go. However, that can’t be helped now; but we must surround the Prophet, and prevent him from carrying them off.”
“Let us set about it, and not waste any more time in anticipating an evil that may never occur,” suggested Lieutenant Gardiner. “Let Multuomah send half his force over here, and then intercept the Prophet’s retreat with the rest. We will wait here until morning, and then force a passage through the ravine. The sound of our rifles will be his signal to advance upon his side. With the force at my disposal, we can soon overpower the Prophet’s band.”
“Your head’s level, leftenant, and that’s just what we will do,” replied Glyndon; “and now let’s have some supper.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE WHITE LILY.
The Prophet welcomed the boys in that stately manner which was as impressive as it was characteristic with him, and Oneotah placed her soft hand in Percy Vere’s with a gentle pressure; but when Cute extended his chubby hand toward her, she declined it expressively.
“Beg to be excused, eh?” said that roguish youngster. “Don’t want a repetition of the grip? If I was somebody else now—a certain good-looking young chief—Mister Multuomah.”