Fortunately for all concerned, the young Aztec was lying in a natural depression between two firm rocks, and while his extrication proved to be a matter of both time and difficulty, saying nothing of main strength, success finally rewarded the efforts of our young Samaritans.
The grizzly was stone-dead. The Indian seemed but a trifle better, though that came through compression rather than any actual wounds from tooth or talon. And the brothers themselves were fairly dismayed.
Not until that rescue was finally accomplished did either lad give thought to what might follow; but now they drew back a bit, interchanging looks of puzzled doubt and worry.
“Right in it, up to our necks, old man! And we can't very well kill the critter, can we?”
“Of course not; but it may cause us sore trouble if—”
Just then the young Aztec rallied sufficiently to move, drawing a step nearer the brothers, right hand coming out in greeting, while left palm was pressed close above his heart. And—still greater marvel!
“Much obliged—me, you, brother!”
If yonder bleeding grizzly had risen erect and made just such a salutation as this, it could scarcely have caused greater surprise to either Bruno or Waldo, looking upon this being, as they quite naturally did, in the light of a genuine “heathen,” hence incapable of speaking any known tongue, much less the glorious Americanese.
True, there was a certain odd accent, a curious dwelling upon each syllable, but the words themselves were distinctly pronounced and beyond misapprehension.
“Why, I took you for a howling Injun!” fairly exploded Waldo, then stepping forward to clasp the proffered member, giving it a regular “pump-handle shake” by way of emphasis. “And here you are, slinging the pure United States around just as though it didn't cost a cent, and you held a mortgage on the whole dictionary! Why, I can't—well, well, now!”