"What do you expect me to say to that?" inquired the officer quizzically.
"Tell you men lay their guns on the ground," said Watusk. "They my prisoners. I treat them kind."
Inspector Egerton laughed until his little paunch shook. "Come," he said good-naturedly, "I haven't got time to exchange heroics with you. Run along and bring in your people. I'll give you half an hour."
The inspector drew out his watch, and took note of the time. He then turned to address his sergeant, leaving Watusk in mid air, so to speak.
There was nothing for the Indian leader to do but wheel his horse and ride back up the hill with what dignity he could muster. His men fell in behind him.
They had understood nothing of what was said, of course, but the byplay was sufficiently intelligible. The whole party was crestfallen.
Observing this air on their return to the rifle pit, Ambrose's eye brightened. Watusk seeing the keen, questioning eye, announced with dignity.
"We won. The red-coats surrendered."
This was so palpably a falsehood Ambrose could well afford to smile broadly behind his gag.
The half hour that then followed seemed like half a day to those who watched. Ambrose, ignorant of what had occurred, could only guess the reason of the armistice.