“What does all this mean, Joses?” whispered Bart, excitedly, for it seemed marvellous that two Indians should be allowed to come up to their stronghold unmolested.
“Why, don’t you see, my lad,” cried Joses, “Beaver and his chap arn’t dead after all. There they are down yonder; that’s them.”
Bart leaped up, and forgetful of the proximity of enemies, waved his cap and shouted: “Beaver, ahoy! hurrah!”
The two Indians responded with a cheery whoop, and ran up to the rocks, while Bart communicated the news to the Doctor and his fellow-guardians of the gate, where the lad pushed himself to the front, so as to be the first to welcome the chief back to their stronghold—a welcome the more warm after the belief that had been current since his non-return.
The Doctor’s grasp was so friendly that the chief seemed almost moved, and nodding quietly in his dignified way, he seated himself in silence to partake of the refreshments pressed upon him by his friends.
“The Apaché dogs must live longer and learn more before they can teach the Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth,” said the interpreter scornfully to Joses.
“I’m very glad of it,” said the latter, heartily. “I hate Injun, but somehow I don’t hate the Beaver and you, old Speak English, half—no, not a quarter—so much as I do some of ’em. I say, how could you tell in the dark that it was the Beaver?”
“Speak English has eyes,” said the Indian, accepting the nickname Joses gave him without a moment’s hesitation. “Speak English uses his eyes. They see in the dark, like a puma or panther, as much as yours see in the sunshine.”
“Well, I suppose they do,” said Joses, with a sigh. “I used to think, too, that I could see pretty well.”
They were back now in the gallery, keeping a steady watch out towards the plain, Bart being with them, and all were most anxiously waiting till the Beaver and his companion should come; for they were steadily endeavouring to make up for a very long fast to an extent that would astound an Englishman who saw a half-starved Indian eating for the first time. Joses and Bart made no scruple about expressing their wonder as to how it was that the Beaver had managed to escape; but the interpreter and his fellows hazarded no conjecture whatever. They took it for granted that their clever chief would be sure to outwit the Apachés, and so it had proved.