At dusk two more men rode in, probably outposts Watusk had left at the river. One held up his two bands, opening out and closing the fingers twice. Ambrose guessed from this that the coming police party numbered twenty.
The last thing he saw as darkness infolded the camp was the boys driving in the horses from the hills.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE TRAP.
He shared the teepee with his six guards. Sleep was remote from his eyes. Nevertheless, he did fall off at last, only, it seemed to him, to be immediately awakened by his guards.
His ankles were unbound, and he was made to understand that he must ride again. Ambrose, seeing no advantage to be gained by resistance, did what they ordered without objection.
He got to his feet and went outside. A pitiful little yelp behind him caused him to whirl about and dart inside again.
"Hands off my dog!" he cried in a voice that caused the Kakisas to fall back in affright.
There was a little light from the fire. Their attitude was conciliatory. In their own language they sought to explain. One pointed to a kind of pannier of birch-bark hanging from a teepee pole, whence issued a violent scratching.
"Let him out!" cried Ambrose.