All this passed so quickly that Maxwell was still blinking to clear his eyes of smoke, unconscious that his bonds had been partially cut, as his hands were still bound behind his back.
The man sprung to his feet with a cry of defiance. And then the features of Dusky Dick were revealed. Maxwell stared at him in open-mouthed wonder.
“How dare you do this, chief?” uttered the White Snake, in a voice low and even; but oh! what deadly ire that tone contained! “You know our agreement—this brave was to be given me, unharmed.”
“Dare! Wapashaw is an Arapahoe chief. What is there he can not dare? Who shall speak hot words in his ear? Not the pale-faced coward—not the White Snake!”
“You should know whether I am a coward or not by this time, chief. If you say I am, I say you lie. This brave is my property—who dares do him harm until I speak the word?”
“I, Wapashaw, the Arapahoe! I dare harm him! See! I defy you—I kill him before your very eyes!” yelled the savage, now thoroughly angered, as he drew his tomahawk and sprung toward the motionless form of the scout.
But like a meteor, the form of Dusky Dick glided forward, and then his small fist alighted with crushing force full between the eyes of the savage Hercules, hurling him to the ground like a shot. Instantly all was the greatest confusion.
Several braves sprung toward the renegade, with flashing weapons, but he met them boldly, with drawn revolvers. Twice did there come a sharp report—twice did the death-yell soar upward above the frightful din.
But then Wapashaw arose, and with a gesture motioned his braves back. With a gesture that Dusky Dick well understood, and was not slow to accept, he advanced to the wild duel.
Casting his pistols aside, the renegade met his foe with equal weapons. Knife slashed against knife, and the strife began that could end only in death.