“Not till I’m through with my business, Mr. Scar Face,” Hilliard answered coolly. “An’ you’d better not be callin’ hard names, ’r you’ll git a dose o’ the same medicine we mean to give that young dandy at y’r side. I’m commandin’ this squad o’ redskins; an’ they don’t like you much better’n they do him. You jest keep quiet till I git through with my business.”
Then turning his attention from father to son:
“Ross Douglas, you an’ me’s goin’ to have a final settlement right here. You toted off my wife last night—me an’ my gang trailed you ’cross the river. An’ now you’ve come to carry off the Prophet’s gal. You ain’t content with one woman—you want two. But then I happen to want this young miss myself—an’ I’m goin’ to have her. Fair ’xchange is no robbery. You can have my wife; I’ll take your plump little sweetheart. Hand her over peaceably, an’ you an’ y’r crowd can go on to the fort; refuse, an’ my warriors ’ll kill an’ scalp the last one o’ you. Do you understand?”
“I understand you—you devil incarnate!” Ross answered in a voice hoarse with rage. “Do your worst! You shall not lay your vile hands upon this pure being, as long as the breath of life is spared me!”
“Which won’t be very long!” Hilliard muttered with an oath.
Farley and Bright Wing set their teeth and calmly awaited the attack. Ross turned to his father and asked:
“What can we do?”
“Fight to the death!” was the cool and determined reply.
Slipping an arm around La Violette’s waist, Ross whispered:
“Good-by, darling! Lie down behind that mound, out of the way of flying bullets. As soon as the first discharge of firearms is over, run toward the boat at the top of your speed. If I escape death, I’ll rejoin you there.”