Deadly Dan shot a look of anger at the Indian which was returned with interest.
“Of course not,” he said, answering his young interlocutor. “If you know what I do, boy, maybe you wouldn’t blame me for wanting your life—that is, if you were in my place, and had my nature.”
The eyes of Judge Lynch, Jr., dilated with astonishment; he glanced quickly at Red Crest as if fearful that the Sioux was listening. But such did not seem to be the case.
“What do you mean?” he ejaculated, without second thought, but the derisive smile that came to Dan’s lips quickly told him that he had been too precipitate.
“Ha! wouldn’t you like to know?” whispered Deadly Dan, leaning toward his captor. “You know that there is some secret connected with your life; you must believe that I am the possessor of it, but I can not think that you are fool—idiot enough to dream that I am going to divulge it. Do you think I will, judge?”
The boy could but notice the triumphant twinkle in his prisoner’s eyes.
“A secret about me?” he asked himself. “This is the third time I have heard such hints,” and while he thought, his look told Dan how wolfishly the insatiable demon curiosity was gnawing at his heart-strings.
He did not notice that they had entered Cut-throat, so intently was he gazing into the handsome young face revealed by the soft moonlight.
“We are here,” fell suddenly from the Indian’s lips, and the boy, throwing a hasty glance around, replied:
“Indeed, we have reached our court. Rosebud, in all your travels have you ever seen such a temple of justice?”