But the savage had no intention of taking himself off. He glared fiercely around him for a moment, and finding that he was opposed by nothing more formidable than a few frightened women, a boy of sixteen and a couple of dogs, he caught up his knife, and gave a war-whoop.
CHAPTER III.
MARK’S ADVENTURE.
Mark was badly frightened, but he did not show it.
“Look here, old gentleman,” said he, with a pretty show of courage, “you had better not try to hurt any body with that knife. Put it away, and go back to camp where you belong.”
The savage paid no more attention to his words than if he had not spoken at all. He wanted to be revenged upon something for the fall he had received, and not daring to molest either the ladies or Mark, he charged furiously upon the hounds, which nimbly eluded all his attacks, and easily kept out of reach of the knife.
“Do you see what he is doing, mother?” shouted Mark, astonished and enraged at the Indian’s attempts to injure his favorites. “Say the word, and I’ll make the dogs stretch him as if he were a ’coon.”
“No! no!” answered mother, hastily. “Don’t make him angry, and perhaps he will go away after a while.”
“He is as angry as he can be already,” replied Mark.
The boy curbed his indignation as well as he was able, and watched the savage as he followed up the hounds, which barked at him, but kept out of his way. They ran under the house, but the robber crawled after them and drove them out. They were too well trained to take hold of him without the word from their master; but they grew angrier every minute, and finally, as if they feared that their rage might get the better of them if they remained longer in sight of their enemy, they sullenly retreated up the steps that led to the porch.
“Hold on, there!” shouted Mark, as the Indian, yelling furiously, prepared to follow the dogs into the house. “Keep away from there, I tell you.”