"I didn't kalkerlate on seein' you agin," said the outlaw, with a savage smile, "an' I aint agoin' to say that I'm glad to see you now, 'cause I aint. I hate any body that's a friend to Bob an' Dick, an' if I could have my way I'd split your wizzen fur you in a minit. But you b'long to the chief, an' I don't reckon he would see harm come to you."
"To the chief!" repeated Frank, drawing a long breath as if a heavy load had been removed from his shoulders. It was a great satisfaction to him to know that this man could not do as he pleased with him.
"That's what I said," replied the visitor.
"But what does he want to do with me? What is his object in taking me prisoner?" asked Frank.
"He's goin' to make an Injun of you."
"What! I—you don't mean——"
"Sartin I do. It's a fact. He's goin' to take you into the tribe an' make an Injun of you," said the outlaw, in a louder tone.
"And never let me go home again, but keep me here always?" demanded Frank, growing more and more astonished.
"Exactly!"
"Well, he can't do it—he shan't. I don't want to be adopted into the tribe, and I won't be, either."