"Look here, men," and Natsatt moved closer to Owindia as he spoke, "my mother was an Indian—call her a squaw if you like. But she was a woman as well, true and tender. Let me tell you this: I am a half-breed, and am not ashamed of it. Speak again as you have just spoken, or meddle with this maiden, and you will answer to me."
"Oh, ye needn't do any bluffing," Larry replied. "You've shown your true colours to-night, a combination of white an' brown, or I should say white an' red. Fine mixture, that. Father a Siwash, an' mother a ——"
The last words had scarcely left his lips ere Natsatt leaped toward him, and with a blow fair between the eyes, hurled him headlong to the ground. With an oath he endeavoured to regain his feet, only to go down again quicker than he rose.
"Got enough, eh?" Natsatt asked when at length Larry did not attempt to renew the contest. "You've been itching for trouble for some time past, and I hope you're satisfied now. Not much fun, is it?"
Then he returned to the rest of the men.
"Got any more remarks to make about Indian women?" he queried. "If so, now's the time to say them."
No one replied, and a deep silence prevailed. The men had seen enough of what Natsatt could do, and no one was anxious to meet Larry's ignominious fate. At that moment Ranger Dan was seen to emerge from the stockade, and hurry quickly across the open.
"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded, looking first at the prostrate man and then at the irate Natsatt.
Next he caught sight of the chief standing near.
"Who is this Indian?" he demanded, "and why didn't you tell me of his arrival?"