"Nothing," replied the chief, laughing; "but you seem to forget that we have the advantage of the situation. If we like we can take possession of the hut, whence I fancy my good friend will find it difficult to dislodge us."
"Without counting that we are master of the person of the owner of the wigwam," cried Versenca, triumphantly.
It was true. Assisted by the sentinels whom the outlaw had brought up behind, he had been seized.
He was at once taken inside and then secured with his servants, whom the noise had at last aroused.
But even this had not been done without a struggle. The two splendid dogs on seeing their master attacked had flown at the throats of the bandits, had knocked two down and throttled them in a minute; then, obedient to a whistle from Charbonneau, they had darted into a thicket, whence came a discharge of firearms. The three young men had returned.
The outlaws retreated into the hut, prepared to defend themselves to the last gasp. Battle was imminent.
"Stop," cried the voice of Oliver, "stop, for heaven's sake," and rushing forward he added, "Captain Tom Mitchell, I demand safety for myself and friends, and a truce until this unfortunate affair can be settled amicably. Speak."
"I consent at once," said the captain, frankly; "what has happened was not of my doing. Down with your arms. Let all retain their positions. As for you, sir, you may advance, you are entirely under the protection of my honour."
"I am here," replied Oliver, advancing.
The two men went into the house and seated themselves at a table near an open window.