CHAPTER XVI
PRISONERS
"Russ, are you going to try to get a film?" asked Alice, as she saw the young operator examining his camera.
"I was thinking of it," he confessed. "I guess I've got film enough to get you people, and take about eight hundred feet of the Indians—that is, if they'll let us."
"Maybe we can make them believe the camera is some new kind of magic, that will help them better than some of their own," suggested Paul. "One of the cowboys was telling me the Indians come here to make magic or 'medicine' that they take back to the reservation with them, to ward off sickness, bring good crops, and the like."
"Well, don't run into danger, whatever you do," advised Mr. DeVere. "We'll just take a look, if we can, and come away."
"But I want a film," insisted Russ.
They were nearing the mesa. The smoke on top was seen to be growing thicker, but there were no other signs that the Indians were on top of the peculiar, table-like formation.
"Suppose they aren't there?" suggested Paul.
"Oh, don't come any of that Mr. Sneed business," laughed Russ. "Don't cross a bridge until you come to it. I guess they're there, all right."